I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote them down.

John Clare
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote...
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote...
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote...
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote...
About This Quote

When you are writing poetry, it’s all about the words. When you are writing poetry, it’s all about the words. They are the diamonds that sparkle in the dark. The thing is to find the right words in the right places in order to capture the right thought or feeling. You have to look hard for them.

Source: The Later Poems, 18371864: Volumes I And Ii

Some Similar Quotes
  1. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you,... - Pablo Neruda

  2. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. - Pablo Neruda

  3. We love the things we love for what they are. - Robert Frost

  4. I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhereI go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my... - E.e. Cummings

  5. Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet. - Plato

More Quotes By John Clare
  1. In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell us love can die, Who say to us in slander's breath That love belongs to sin and death.

  2. I am–yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes– They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live–like vapours...

  3. I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote them down.

  4. O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away

  5. I am–yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes– They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live–like vapours...

Related Topics