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Quotes about language of poetry

Niels Bohr

We must be clear that when it comes to atoms, language can be used only as in poetry. The poet, too, is not nearly so concerned with describing facts as with creating images and establishing mental connections.

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Byron

Canto the Fourth

I
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.

II
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man, -- and, as we would hope, -- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this -- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.

[...] Read more

poem by from Don Juan (1824)Report problemRelated quotes
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Christopher Fry

Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement.

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Samuel Johnson

Poetry cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve the languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.

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What is important-what lasts-in another language is not what is said but what is written. For the essence of an age, we look to its poetry and its prose, not its talk shows.

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Prevalent Poetry

A Wandering tribe, called the Siouxs,
Wear moccasins, having no shiouxs;

They are made of buckskin,
With the fleshy side in,

Embroidered with beads of bright hyiouxs.

When out on the war-path, the Siouxs
March single file — never by tiouxs—

And by "blazing" the trees
Can return at their ease,

And their way through the forests ne'er liouxs.

All new-fashioned boats he eschiouxs,
And uses the birch-bark caniouxs;

These are handy and light,

[...] Read more

poem by from Yawcob Strauss and Other PoemsReport problemRelated quotes
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Let The Pendulum Swing

Let the pendulum swing.
Let the old guard surrender
It is a new day, a new world,
A new language I wish to speak
The language of love
May I have the words I need to speak my truth,
To translate my heart and my vision
To my beloved and his children
To all who come to sit at our table
Or walk with us through the market place
Or pray with us by the water
May I have the plain poetry to tell them how I feel
Or why there is pain,
If the answers are mine to know.
And if they are, I ask the spirit to let me share them
With a light heart, with laughter,
Wth no expectation, with humility
But for the grace of thee, go i.
May I know my innocence
Every moment of every day

[...] Read more

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Killer Wants To Go To College Ii

Sal
I know youre trying to protect me
Searching for another truth
With your language and your poetry
From my ignorance and youth
Hey I did not come to argue
My life never made much sense
I just wish that I could hug you
Youre my only defense
I dont understand your writing
I could barely sign my name
All I ever learned was fighting
But Im not the only one to blame
The streets were dark with danger
I have to stand up for my friends
In a land where Im a stranger
And the hatred never ends
Inmate
Killer wants to go on t.v.
[interview]

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

First Book

OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,–
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.

I, writing thus, am still what men call young;
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep
When wondered at for smiling; not so far,
But still I catch my mother at her post
Beside the nursery-door, with finger up,
'Hush, hush–here's too much noise!' while her sweet eyes
Leap forward, taking part against her word
In the child's riot. Still I sit and feel

[...] Read more

poem by from Aurora Leigh (1856)Report problemRelated quotes
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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,

[...] Read more

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