#poetry

Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for. ↗

— Jean Cocteau

#indispensable #knew #only #poetry

Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie. ↗

— Jean Cocteau

#children #cut #his #knot #life

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth. ↗

— Jean Cocteau

#always #liar #poet #speaks #truth

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. ↗

— Leonard Cohen

#burning #evidence #just #life #well

I think the term poet is a very exalted term and should be applied to a man at the end of his work. When he looks back over the body of his work and he's written poetry then let the verdict be that he's a poet. ↗

— Leonard Cohen

#back #body #end #exalted #his

The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in me Older and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean. ↗

— Robinson Jeffers

#poetry #the-continent-s-end #life

A poem is never finished, only abandoned. ↗

— Paul Valery

#abandoned #finished #never #only #poem

I do actually dabble in a bit of poetry! And I'm yet to pen a script, but it is something that I've been telling myself I want to do. ↗

— Luke Treadaway

#been #bit #dabble #i #i do

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washèd it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide and made my pains his prey. Vain man (said she) that dost in vain assay A mortal thing so to immortalise; For I myself shall like to this decay, And eke my name be wipèd out likewise. Not so (quod I); let baser things devise To die in dust, but you shall live by fame; My verse your virtues rare shall eternise, And in the heavens write your glorious name: Where, when as Death shall all the world subdue, Our love shall live, and later life renew. ↗

— Edmund Spenser

#immortality #love #poetry #death

But some nights, I must tell you, I go down there after everyone has fallen asleep. I swim back and forth in the echoing blackness. I sing a love song as well as I can, lost for a while in the home of the rain. ↗

— Billy Collins

#love