A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest.

Life, an age to the miserable, and a moment to the happy.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

Continuous eloquence wearies. Grandeur must be abandoned to be appreciated. Continuity in everything is unpleasant. Cold is agreeable, that we may get warm.

The first poems I knew were nursery rhymes, and before I could read them for myself, I had come to love just the words of them, the words alone.

Why should poetry have to make sense?

In constructing the plot and working it out with the proper diction, the poet should place the scene, as far as possible, before his eyes. In this way, seeing everything with the utmost vividness, as if he were a spectator of the action, he will discover what is in keeping with it, and be most unlikely to overlook inconsistencies.

America is a poem in our eyes; its ample geography dazzles the imagination, and it will not wait long for metres.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the wren; and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur; and my eyes, like the sherry in the glass, that the guest leaves.

Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.

And whether you’re an honest man, or whether you’re a thief, depends on whose solicitor has given me my brief.

I write some country music. There’s a song called ‚I Hope You Dance.‘ Incredible. I was going to write that poem; somebody beat me to it.

Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

Is the babe young? When I behold it, it seems more venerable than the oldest man.

Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words.

When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.

Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I find in my poetry and prose the rhythms and imagery of the best – I mean, when I’m at my best – of the good Southern black preachers. The lyricism of the spirituals and the directness of gospel songs and the mystery of blues are in my music or in my poetry and prose, or I missed everything.

At ev’ry word a reputation dies.

No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem.

Pound’s crazy. All poets are. They have to be. You don’t put a poet like Pound in the loony bin.

Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day.

I’ve been writing poems since I was in the Navy – to Rosalynn. I found I could say things in poems that I never could in prose. Deeper, more personal things. I could write a poem about my mother that I could never tell my mother. Or feelings about being on a submarine that I would have been too embarrassed to share with fellow submariners.

History shows us that in times of people feeling like they are in need of some sort of rebellion or protests, the artists rise because the poetry we create about pain and its relationship to culture in the world begins to soothe and heal people who are feeling confused or afraid.

Poetry is the art of substantiating shadows, and of lending existence to nothing.

On the subject of literary genres, I’ve always felt that my response to poetry is inadequate. I’d love to be the kind of person that drifts off into the garden with a slim volume of Elizabethan verse or a sheaf of haikus, but my passion is story.

If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Every age has its own poetry; in every age the circumstances of history choose a nation, a race, a class to take up the torch by creating situations that can be expressed or transcended only through poetry.

I always wrote poetry and stuff like that, so putting songs together wasn’t that spectacular.

Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the New.

Humor has justly been regarded as the finest perfection of poetic genius.

Hatred is blind, as well as love.

You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lines. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

I grew up with the sea, and poverty for me was sumptuous; then I lost the sea and found all luxuries gray and poverty unbearable.

I am growing handsome very fast indeed! I expect I shall be the belle of Amherst when I reach my 17th year. I don’t doubt that I shall have perfect crowds of admirers at that age. Then how I shall delight to make them await my bidding, and with what delight shall I witness their suspense while I make my final decision.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

I think a poet is anybody who wouldn’t call himself a poet.

I read poetry to save time.

I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.

I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul. The value of the poem is in the ratio of this elevating excitement.

It’s when you begin to lie to yourself in a poem in order to simply make a poem, that you fail.

Every now and then I read a poem that does touch something in me, but I never turn to poetry for solace or pleasure in the way that I throw myself into prose.

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.

I started out in life as a poet; I was only writing poetry all through my 20s. It wasn’t until I was about 30 that I got serious about writing prose. While I was writing poems, I would often divert myself by reading detective novels; I liked them.

The poet, being an imitator like a painter or any other artist, must of necessity imitate one of three objects – things as they were or are, things as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought to be. The vehicle of expression is language – either current terms or, it may be, rare words or metaphors.

I know some people might think it odd – unworthy even – for me to have written a cookbook, but I make no apologies. The U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins thought I had demeaned myself by writing poetry for Hallmark Cards, but I am the people’s poet so I write for the people.

When men and woman die, as poets sung, his heart’s the last part moves, her last, the tongue.

Poetry and lyrics are very similar. Making words bounce off a page.

The learned is happy, nature to explore; The fool is happy, that he knows no more.

Yet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.

The main problem with writing in verse is, if your fourth line doesn’t come out right, you’ve got to throw four lines away and figure out a whole new way to attack the problem. So the mortality rate is terrific.

Comedy just pokes at problems, rarely confronts them squarely. Drama is like a plate of meat and potatoes, comedy is rather the dessert, a bit like meringue.

A subject for a great poet would be God’s boredom after the seventh day of creation.

Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.

Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.

The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom… in a clarification of life – not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against confusion.

Don’t be too harsh to these poems until they’re typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction.