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Poets Quotes

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Poets Quotes

“Invite him to poetry club," Doff said with a smirk. "See if he asks you to take a look at his Emily Dickinson." Beatrice snorted. "How long did it take you to think that up?" "Most of lunch, and the rest of G block," Doff said, shrugging modestly. "I started with 'read his Charles Dickens,' but Charles Dickens is a novelist." "What about his Philip K. Dick?" "Who's that?" asked Doff. "He wrote the book that got turned into Blade Runner.”

NovelistsPoetsDick Jokes
Book:That Summer
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“Ah gospodine! - reći će sinovica; - naredite vi mirne duše da se i te knjige spale kao i druge, jer dok moj gospodar stric ozdravi od viteške bolesti, ne bi bilo čudo da njega, ako on uščita te knjige, spopadne želja da se prometne u pastira i krene po šumama i livadama svirajući i pjevajući; ili, što je još gore, da postane pjesnik, a to je, kako vele, neizlječiva i prijelazna bolest.”

PoetsFunny QuotesDon Quijote De La ManchaDon Quixote QuotesPjesnici
Book:Don Quijote de la Mancha
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“Personal essayists write in large part to escape pent-up emotional anxiety, retreat behind the typewriter or digital keyboard in an attempt to regroup before blithely pushing forward on the cambered road of life. Some essayists might be uncomfortable reconnoitering their memories and, in a perverse twist, largely write in an effort to forget, to consign their uncomfortable emotional perplexities to a dead letter file. In contrast, I wonder if most people write poetry because they do not wish to wipe their mental kit clear. Poets might write because they wish to remember evocative experiences and they wish to share their feelings.”

PoetsWriters On WritingEssaysMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPoets And PoetryPersonal EssaysEssayistEssay Writing
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“Unlike essayists whom write primarily to understand complex situations or convince other people of the righteousness of their opinions, poets strive to stir memories, provoke feelings, and evoke emotions. Poets do not write to reach that exalted perch where logic replaces feelings. Poets write about the connective tissue that makes us human, the poignant remembrances, hopes, fears, and emotions of humankind. It is not our ability to think standing alone that makes us human, but a mélange of incongruous feelings, emotional tidings that are virtually inexpressible.”

PoetryPoetry QuotesPoeticPoetsPoets And PoetryPoetic ProsePoetic TruthPoeticsPoetic NarrativePoetical
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“The ability to perceive and feel, along with the intricacies of family relations unites us as a species. Poets collect succulent physical sense impressions and heartfelt feelings with equal enthusiasm. Poets have the alacrity to see and feel what most of us fail to perceive or otherwise ignore, take for granted, or attempt to forget. Similar to the art of Ukiyo-e (a genre of Japanese woodblock prints and paintings depicting traditional Japanese scenes), poets make the nothingness of our lives come alive. Poets design their sun-filled salvations out of the minutia of nature and the seemingly ordinary happenings of life. Although essayist can also explore the liminal spaces of daily life by probing the avenues of common experiences, essayists are more interested in testing ideas and principles than in invoking memories, sharing feelings, or eliciting emotions.”

NarrativePoeticPoetsMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPoets And PoetryEssayistPoetic ProseNarrative WritingPoetical
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“We only live in moments, passing us by. As big as the sky. They’re here and gone in the blink of an eye. Don’t waste time thinking about What you’re going to sprout out Or what route you need to scout. There is a reason for everything that happens. Don’t worry too much and let in sadness. Don’t let the thoughts throw off your balance. We only live in moments, here and gone Quick as a sunrise and slow as the dawn. Please hold on before your moment’s drawn.”

MomentsPoetryProsePoets
Book:Yesterday's Coffee
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“Essayist and poets share many of the same alluring keystrokes, even if they are rather rabid about asserting their notable pedigree differences. The writer and the poet use the juxtaposition of words to create a lovely portrayal of the touches of sweetness and the bitter edges of life. By doing so, they clarify and affirm the bewildering array of inconsistencies, ironies, absurdities, delights, and enigmas that describe what it entails to be fully alive. Each artistic form serves the same essential purpose, which is to investigate, ponder, and explain the bouquets of comedy and tragedy, covenants of love and mercy, and stones of anger and hatred that compulsory merger contextualize human life. By linking words that explore the chaos and silence within all of nature, essayists and poets’ labor serves to uplift the author and inspire their brethren.”

PoetsMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPoets And PoetryPersonal EssaysEssayistNarrativesNarrative Writing
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“I want to be the one you run to. I want to be the one you miss. I want your arms to hold me through. I want your lips to be mine to kiss. I want to be the one you’re in love with. Eyes opening up my heart like a locksmith. I want to be the one you snuggle. Together creating jealous couples. Love is one of the greatest treasures. Something that cannot be measured. Take me with you on this journey. As long as we’re together, there’re no worries.”

PoetryProsePoetsWith
Book:Yesterday's Coffee
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“I close my eyes and say a prayer, That tonight you’ll be held. I lift you up to the spare pair Of shoulders that can’t be felled. Tonight, as you sleep, I pray your worries are wiped away. May you wake up and not weep, For joy will come in the day. Let the bridge cover your worries, Let the rain wash away the fear. Let the shoulders hold your furies. Let the sunshine bring you cheer. Shoulders holding you high. Arms shielding you from danger. May you never have to cry, On top of the mountainous glacier.”

PoetryShouldersProsePoets
Book:Yesterday's Coffee
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“In the morning, when I am gone. Don’t sit ‘round and mourn. Just simply look up to the sun. I’ll be looking right back at you. You will all be okay without me, soon. It’s not the end; it’s the start of a new bloom. You will have better times than now. Don’t reflect on the sad times, avow. Think of the happy times, the years and vow. I don’t want a bunch standing around my grave. Straighten up and think of the happy days. I’ll only allow tears of joy, be brave. I will be right there with you. I will keep an eye on you. You teenagers better behave, I’ll be seeing your every move. Every move you make on those nights, out late. So, anyway, when I am gone in the morning, date. Don’t be sad or mad, don’t hate. Just look up to the sun, nigh I’ll be looking back at you, wry It was just my time to fly. It was simply my time, goodbye.”

DeathPoetryDepressionMy TimeProsePoetsTiming
Book:Yesterday's Coffee
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“~Can You?~ In the depths of despair, I cry out. Do You see me here? In the puddles of tears, I die inside. Do You know I’m still alive? In the chair or prosecution, I am beaten. Do You see the blood on my hands? In the shadowlands of fear, I am lifeless. Do You still have faith in me? In the end of time, I fall on my face. Do You see me weeping? In the hurting eyes of others, I am heartless. Can You heal me? In the face of evil, I laugh. Can You protect me? In the church, I feel Your Presence, I’ve forgotten how to respond. Can You teach me? In the fields of battle, I long for a shot, To wake me up. Can I start again? When I look in the mirror, I see eyes, Bolted up and locked with pride. Can You soften my heart? Can You give me hope? Can You help me believe in myself? Can You?”

PoetryPoemsProsePoetsCan You
Book:Yesterday's Coffee
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“The Child Christ lives on from generation to generation in the poets, very often the frailest of men but men whose frailty is redeemed by a child's unworldliness, by a child's delight in loveliness, by the spirit of wonder. Christ was a poet, and all through His life the Child remains perfect in Him. It was the poet, the unworldly poet, who was King of the invisible kingdom; the priests and rulers could not understand that. The poets understand it, and they, too, are kings of the invisible kingdom, vassal kings of the Lord of Love, and their crowns are crowns of thorns indeed.”

ChildrenGodChristianJesusChristWonderChristianityPoetJesus ChristCatholicDelightCatholicismChildPoetsKingChrist The KingUnworldly
Book:The Reed of God
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“If rewriting equals rereading, we must logically conclude that writing is reading. If this is indeed the case, how could we possibly write under a ban on reading? The only way left is mouth-to-mouth – poets and storytellers recite their pieces and before we can commit them to memory, everything vanishes into thin air.”

WritingReadingLiteratureBooksMemoryWritersLogicalPoetsAuthorsMouthStorytellersGold StandardRecitingRereadingSingapore LiteratureIreadbooksactuallyBooksactuallyBan
Author:Kyoko Yoshida
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