You May Also Like / View all maxioms
'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.
'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed read more
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul.".
Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.
Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call read more
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.
Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.
Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.
When you write in prose you say what you mean. When you write in rhyme you say what you must.
When you write in prose you say what you mean. When you write in rhyme you say what you must.
A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with read more
A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose.
For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.
For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column:
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column:
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
