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.".

For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a read more

For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a man; also, it may be said, there is no
life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its
sort, rhymed or unrhymed.

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.

A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning read more

A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times.

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.

It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.

It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
read more

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a
poem.

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a
poem.

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.