The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in short, is to help people to live their lives.
One cannot spend one's time in being modern when there are so many more important things to be.
Poetry is a means of redemption.
I do not know which to prefer - The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.
After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends.
It is the belief and not the god that counts.
It is never the thing but the version of the thing.
The people in the world, and the objects in it, and the world as a whole, are not absolute things, but on the contrary, are the phenomena of perception... If we were all alike: if we were millions of people saying do, re, mi, in unison, One poet would be enough... But we are not alone, and everything needs expounding all the time because, as people live and die, each one perceiving life and death for himself, and mostly by and in himself, there develops a curiosity about the perceptions of others. This is what makes it possible to go on saying new things about old things.
Poetry increases the feeling for reality.
Imagination is the will of things. . . .
To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.
The mind is smaller than the eye.
The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real. When it adheres to the unreal and intensifies what is unreal, while its first effect may be extraordinary, that effect is the maximum effect that it will ever have.
They said, 'You have a blue guitar, / You do not play things as they are.' / The man replied, 'Things as they are / Are changed upon the blue guitar.'
Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can be made into.
Anything is beautiful if you say it is.
Poetry is an abstraction bloodied.
Realism is a corruption of reality.
An old argument with me is that the true religious force in the world is not the church, but the world itself: the mysterious callings of Nature and our responses.
The imagination is the power that enables us to perceive the normal in the abnormal, the opposite of chaos in chaos.
Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
All of our ideas come from the natural world: trees equal umbrellas.
in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.
A change of style is a change of meaning.
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