#poetry

Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while. ↗

— W.B. Yeats

#hope #literature #memory #poetry #art

The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual. ↗

— John Muir

#destroyed #generally #gross #nature #poetry

I think it was T.S. Eliot who talked about good poetry being felt before it's understood. I believe that. There are some bands where I love their lyrics but I don't have a clue what they're on about. ↗

— Marcus Mumford

#bands #before #being #believe #clue

A few weeks later, in the wood, I came across Miss Riding Hood. But what a change! No cloak of red, No silly hood upon her head. She said, 'Hello, and do please note My lovely furry wolfskin coat. ↗

— Roald Dahl

#red-riding-hood-and-the-wolf #change

Χόρεψε πάνω στο φτερό του καρχαρία/ παίξε τον άνεμο στη γλώσσα σου και πέρνα. (Από το ποίημα "Γυναίκα" ) ↗

— Νίκος Καββαδίας

#poetry #sea #strength #δύναμη #θάλασσα

Yes, there are in me the makings of a very fine loafer, and also of a pretty spry sort of fellow. I often think of those lines of old Goethe: 'Schade, daß die Natur nur einen Menschen aus dir schuf; Denn zum würdigen Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff.' ↗

— Arthur Conan Doyle

#goethe #humanity #men #poetry #potential

Who writes poetry imbibes honey from the poisoned lips of life. ↗

— William Rose Benet

#life #lips #poetry #poisoned #who

Tell me, enigmatical man, whom do you love best, your father, Your mother, your sister, or your brother? I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother. Your friends? Now you use a word whose meaning I have never known. Your country? I do not know in what latitude it lies. Beauty? I could indeed love her, Goddess and Immortal. Gold? I hate it as you hate God. Then, what do you love, extraordinary stranger? I love the clouds the clouds that pass up there Up there the wonderful clouds! ↗

— Charles Baudelaire

#beauty

Prior to Wordsworth, humor was an essential part of poetry. I mean, they don't call them Shakespeare comedies for nothing. ↗

— William Collins

#comedies #essential #humor #i #mean

I wish you would read a little poetry sometimes. Your ignorance cramps my conversation. ↗

— Anthony Hope

#cramps #i #i wish #ignorance #little