Top Poets And Love Quotes

Browse top 31 famous quotes and sayings about Poets And Love by most favorite authors.

Favorite Poets And Love Quotes

1. "We have the same symptoms as tuberculosis, especially in the eyes of the Romantic Poets. Pale, tired, coughing up blood.""That's romantic?"I had to smile. "Romantic with a capital ‘R.' You know, like Byron and Coleridge."He gave a mock shudder. "Please, stop. I barely passed English Lit."I snorted. "I didn't have that option. One of my aunts took Byron as a lover.""Get out.""Seriously. It makes Lucy insanely jealous.""That girl is . . .""My best friend," I filled in sternly."I was only going to say she's unique."
Author: Alyxandra Harvey
2. "A Blessing on the PoetsPatient earth-digger, impatient fire-maker,Hungry word-taker and roving sound-lover,Sharer and saver, muser and acher,You who are open to hide or uncover,Time-keeper and –hater, wake-sleeper, sleep-waker;May language's language, the silence that liesUnder each word, move you over and over,Turning you, wondering, back to surprise."
Author: Annie Finch
3. "...these poets here, you see, they are not of this world:let them live their strange life; let them be cold and hungry, let them run, love and sing: they are as rich as Jacques Coeur, all these silly children, for they have their souls full of rhymes, rhymes which laugh and cry, which make us laugh or cry: Let them live: God blesses all the merciful: and the world blesses the poets."
Author: Arthur Rimbaud
4. "People speak of fateand meetings of chance.Finding of soul matesand love at first glance.Alignment of planetsShooting stars up above.Fullness of the moonand pairs of white doves.I've never taken stockin these symbols and signs.But having met youproved I'd been blind.Poets write of heartseternal devotion.Flames of desireand new found emotion.Love ever lastinga lifetime of bliss.Heaven here on Earththe passion of a kiss.I've never found validthese words foolishly penned.Then you graced my presenceand proved me wrong again.Singers sing of heartacheand the one that got away.Internal emptinesspain that still remains.Missed opportunitiesthe hollowness of night.Paths that never crosstiming that wasn't right.I never dreamed those songscould ever ring so true.Until I thought of lifewithout ever knowing you."
Author: Bethany Walkers
5. "The latter, for the last few centuries, we have been closing up as a way of escape. We have done this through the poets and novelists by persuading the humans that a curious, and usually shortlived, experience which they call ‘being in love' is the only respectable ground for marriage; that marriage can, and ought to, render this excitement permanent; and that a marriage which does not do so is no longer binding."
Author: C.S. Lewis
6. "How are you supposed to know what to read next? This is the question that keeps us up at night, so at Day One our mission is to feed an audience of literature-hungry, time-constrained readers like you with a weekly lineup of talented authors, poets, and artists that we believe you will love. And if we can identify some of the next generation of literary stars, and cultivate an appreciation for transformative poetry and fiction, then frankly we will sleep better at night."
Author: Carmen Johnson
7. "This is how we were meant for each other. How we make our living. The lives of frustrated poets and imposters. This, too, how the love works and then doesn't: a mutual spectacle of imagination."
Author: Chang Rae Lee
8. "My friends, tonight we bring you something entirely different. Something special. The poets will rest, the sonnets will be silent, and what words of love there are will not be spoken. Tonight, my friends, and I can hear you out there, sitting alone, like me, in your chairs, your beds, driving down an empty street with no one but me to listen to your weeping; tonight, I'm going to bring you Armageddon."
Author: Charles Grant
9. "The time of minor poets is coming. Good-by Whitman, Dickinson, Frost. Welcome you whose fame will never reach beyond your closest family, and perhaps one or two good friends gathered after dinner over a jug of fierce red wine… While the children are falling asleep and complaining about the noise you're making as you rummage through the closets for your old poems, afraid your wife might've thrown them out with last spring's cleaning. It's snowing, says someone who has peeked into the dark night, and then he, too, turns toward you as you prepare yourself to read, in a manner somewhat theatrical and with a face turning red, the long rambling love poem whose final stanza (unknown to you) is hopelessly missing."
Author: Charles Simic
10. "I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits,Musitians, that with touching of a stringMay draw the pliant king which way I please:Musicke and poetrie is his delight,Therefore ile have Italian maskes by night,Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes,And in the day when he shall walke abroad,Like Sylvian Nimphes my pages shall be clad,My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes,Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay.Sometime a lovelie boye in Dians shape,With haire that gilds the water as it glides,Crownets of pearle about his naked armes,And in his sportfull hands an Olive tree,To hide those parts which men delight to see,Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by,One like Actaeon peeping through the grove,Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde,And running in the likenes of an Hart,By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die.Such things as these best please his majestie,My lord."
Author: Christopher Marlowe
11. "I mean this is the kind of love people dream about, poets write sonnets for, and well it's the kind of love that keeps people from losing faith in humanity and encourages people to believe that true love still exists and it's still powerful and still wonderful. (Quote from a reviewer of Loving Lily Lavender)"
Author: DeAnna Kinney
12. "Then she decided she was ready to die.But before she did, she asked the poets to record these momentsin song, and the architects to carve the song in marble,and the marble to be extracted from the most secret veinsof the earth and placed where no man could see it,because that is the nature of love, because one walks alonethrough the ruins of the heart, because the young must sleepwith their eyes open, because the angels tremblefrom so much beauty, because memory moves in orbitsof absence, because she holds her hands out in the rain,and rain remembers nothing, not even how it became itself."
Author: Eric Gamalinda
13. "What I told you tonight - it isn't my story alone. It belongs to every Irish person living and dead. And every Irish person living and dead belongs to it. And to all the story of Ireland; blood and bones, legends, guns and dreams, Catholics, Protestants, England, horses and poets and lovers."
Author: Frank Delaney
14. "They say this city can absorb anyone. It does seem that every nationality is here in some part. There are dreamers and poets and landscape painters with dirty noses and wanderers like me who came here by chance and never left. They are all looking for something, travelling the world and theseven seas but looking for a reason to stay. I am not looking, I've found what it is I want.........I say I'm in love with her. What does that mean? It means Ireview my future and my past in the light of this feeling. It is as though I wrote in a foreign language that I am suddenly able to read. Wordlessly, she explains me to myself. LIke genius she is ignorant of what she does."
Author: Jeanette Winterson
15. "Leave off driving your composers. It might prove to be as dangerous as it is generally unnecessary. After all, composing cannot be turned out like spinning or sewing. Some respected colleagues (Bach, Mozart, Schubert) have spoilt the world terribly. But if we can't imitate them in the beauty of their writing, we should certainly beware of seeking to match the speed of their writing. It would also be unjust to put all the blame on idleness alone. Many factors combine to make writing harder for us (my contemporaries), and especially me. If, incidentally, they would use us poets for some other purpose, they would see that we are thoroughly and naturally industrious dispositions . . . . I have no time: otherwise I should love to chat on the difficulty of composing and how irresponsible publishers are."
Author: Johannes Brahms
16. "Whilst in Prussia poets only speak of the love of country as one of the dearest of all human affections, here there is no man who does not feel, and describe with rapture, how much he loves his country."
Author: Karl Philipp Moritz
17. "Sometimes humans hit on a moment of profundity more complete than their dim minds could comprehend, and they took that nugget of truth and dumped it in the refuse for the bards and the poets to find, and mangle into yodeling paeans of love."
Author: Kelley Armstrong
18. "Haunting the library as a kid, reading poetry books when I was not reading bird books, I had been astonished at how often birds were mentioned in British poetry. Songsters like nightingales and Sky Larks appeared in literally dozens of works, going back beyond Shakespeare, back beyond Chaucer. Entire poems dedicated to such birds were written by Tennyson, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and many lesser-known poets. I had run across half a dozen British poems just about Sky Larks; Thomas Hardy had even written a poem about Shelley's poem about the Sky Lark. The love of birds and of the English language were intermingled in British literary history.Somehow we Americans had failed to import this English love of birds along with the language, except in diluted form. But we had imported a few of the English birds themselves — along with birds from practically everywhere else."
Author: Kenn Kaufman
19. "The poets and philosophers I once loved had it wrong. Death does not come to us all, nor does the passage of time dim our memories and reduce our bodies to dust. Because while I was considered dead, and a headstone had been engraved with my name, in truth my life was just beginning."
Author: Kevin Williamson
20. "Ireland is a land of poets and legends, of dreamers and rebels. All of these have music woven through and around them. Tunes for dancing or for weeping, for battle or for love."
Author: Nora Roberts
21. "But love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent."
Author: Oscar Wilde
22. "Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love."
Author: Philip James Bailey
23. "MusingsThe little poets sing of little things:Hope, cheer, and faith, small queens and puppet kings;Lovers who kissed and then were made as one,And modest flowers waving in the sun.The mighty poets write in blood and tearsAnd agony that, flame-like, bites and sears.They reach their mad blind hands into the night,To plumb abysses dead to human sight;To drag from gulfs where lunacy lies curled,Mad, monstrous nightmare shapes to blast the world.[click on the thumbnail by Jack "King" Kirby]"
Author: Robert E. Howard
24. "Each of us is aware he's a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring that death, the finis vitae sed non amoris that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's simply futile. To be a clock on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is smashed and rebuilt over and again, one in whose mechanism despair and love are set in motion by the watchmaker along with the first movements of the cogs. To know one is a repeater of suffering felt ever more deeply as it becomes increasingly comical through a multiple repetitions. To replay human existence - fine. But to replay it in the way a drunk replays a corny tune pushing coins over and over into the jukebox?"
Author: Stanisław Lem
25. "Considering the ways in which so many of us waste our time, what would be wrong with a world in which everybody were writing poems? After all, there's a significant service to humanity in spending time doing no harm. While you're writing your poem, there's one less scoundrel in the world. And I'd like a world, wouldn't you, in which people actually took time to think about what they were saying? It would be, I'm certain, a more peaceful, more reasonable place. I don't think there could ever be too many poets. By writing poetry, even those poems that fail and fail miserably, we honor and affirm life. We say ‘We loved the earth but could not stay."
Author: Ted Kooser
26. "Well," he said slowly, "sometimes there's a passion that comes in its springtime to ill fate or death. And because it ends in its beauty, it's what the harpers sing of and the poets make stories of: the love that escapes the years...."All or nothing, the true lover says, and that's the truth of it. My love will never die, he says. He claims eternity. And rightly. How can it die when it's life itself? What do we know of eternity but the glimpse we get of it when we enter in that bond?"
Author: Ursula K. Le Guin
27. "Love is fragile at best and often a burden or something that blinds us. It's fodder for poets and song writers and they build it into something beyond human capacity. Falling in love means enrolling yourself in the school of disappointment. Being human means failing each other often, and no two people fail each other more than two people who pledge to do things for each other that they'll never do because they are just incapable of it...That's why art is enduring. The look of love or hope, or the look of compassion, bravery, whatever, is captured forever. We spend our lives trying to get someone to be as enduring as a painting or a sculpture and we can't because feelings crumble as quickly as the flesh."
Author: V.C. Andrews
28. "We owned a garden on a hill,We planted rose and daffodil,Flowers that English poets sing,And hoped for glory in the Spring.We planted yellow hollyhocks,And humble sweetly-smelling stocks,And columbine for carnival,And dreamt of Summer's festival.And Autumn not to be outdoneAs heiress of the summer sun,Should doubly wreathe her tawny headWith poppies and with creepers red.We waited then for all to grow,We planted wallflowers in a row.And lavender and borage blue, -Alas! we waited, I and you,But love was all that ever grew."
Author: Vita Sackville West
29. "Formerly I believed books were made like this: a poet came, lightly opened his lips, and the inspired fool burst into song – if you please! But it seems, before they can launch a song, poets must tramp for days with callused feet, and the sluggish fish of the imagination flounders softly in the slush of the heart. And while, with twittering rhymes, they boil a broth of loves and nightingales, the tongueless street merely writhes for lack of something to shout or say"
Author: Vladimir Mayakovsky
30. "...(hot, opalescent, thick tears that poets and lovers shed)..."
Author: Vladimir Nabokov
31. "But then, the sky! Blue, untainted by a single cloud (the Ancientes had such barbarous tastes given that their poets could have been inspired by such stupid, sloppy, silly-lingering clumps of vapour). I love - and i'm certain that i'm not mistaken if i say we love - skies like this, sterile and flawless! On days like these, the whole world is blown from the same shatterproof, everlasting glass as the glass of the Green Wall and of all our structures. On days like these, you can see to the very blue depths of things, to their unknown surfaces, those marvelous expressions of mathematical equality - which exist in even the most usual and everyday objects."
Author: Yevgeny Zamyatin

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I've noticed it a lot. I'm not someone who revises. It's always the first movement, it's that. It's an instinct. Either it works straight away, or it won't ever work."
Author: Amelie Nothomb

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