Great poetry is always written by somebody straining to go beyond what he can do.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
To have great poets, there must be great audiences.
Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep but I have promises to keep...
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.
The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
The poem is not a thing we see; it is, rather, a light by which we may see.
All that is gold does not glitter.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
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