#poetry

For my part, if I consider poetry as an object, I maintain that it is born of the necessity of adding a vocal sound (speech) to the hammering of the first tribal music. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#born #consider #first #hammering #i

However, poetry does not live solely in books or in school anthologies. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#books #does #however #live #poetry

Narrative art, the novel, from Murasaki to Proust, has produced great works of poetry. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#great #narrative #novel #poetry #produced

Poetry is the art which is technically within the grasp of everyone: a piece of paper and a pencil and one is ready. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#everyone #grasp #paper #pencil #piece

There is also poetry written to be shouted in a square in front of an enthusiastic crowd. This occurs especially in countries where authoritarian regimes are in power. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#authoritarian #countries #crowd #enthusiastic #especially

This proves that great lyric poetry can die, be reborn, die again, but will always remain one of the most outstanding creations of the human soul. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#always #creations #die #great #human

True poetry is similar to certain pictures whose owner is unknown and which only a few initiated people know. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#few #initiated #know #only #owner

I see no reason for calling my work poetry except that there is no other category in which to put it. ↗

— Marianne Moore

#category #except #i #i see #no reason

I'm not precisely saying that a really good board meeting at the MLA (Museums, Libraries and Archives Coucil) makes me want to go and write poetry, but there is a pleasure in doing that sort of thing well. ↗

— Andrew Motion

#board #doing #go #good #i

Un soir qu'ils étaient couchés l'un près de l'autre, comme elle lui demandait d'inventer un poème qui commencerait par je connais un beau pays, il s'exécuta sur-le-champ. Je connais un beau pays Il est de l'or et d'églantine Tout le monde s'y sourit Ah quelle aventure fine Les tigres y sont poltrons Les agneaux ont fière mine À tous les vieux vagabonds Ariane donne des tartines. Alors, elle lui baisa le la main, et il eut honte de cette admiration. ↗

— Albert Cohen

#poetry #romantic #romantic