The American bards shall be marked for generosity and affection and for encouraging competitors… . The great poets are also to be known by the absence in them of tricks and by the justification of perfect personal candor… . How beautiful is candor! All faults may be forgiven of him who has perfect candor. Walt Whitman
He wanted to be a poet, ' someone else put in while Maggie hugged Tim and patted his back. 'Said he'd only lacked the words to be one.
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Nora Roberts
I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth .. .. in mine it begins to be loosened.
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Walt Whitman
To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely-ordered variety on the chords of emotion--a soul in which knowledge passes...
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George Eliot
Now begins to rise in me the familiar rhythm; words that have lain dormant now lift, now toss their crests, and fall and rise, and falls again. I am a poet, yes. Surely I am a great poet.
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Virginia Woolf
We aren't suggesting that mental instability or unhappiness makes one a better poet, or a poet at all; and contrary to the romantic notion of the artist suffering for his or her work, we think these writers achieved brilliance in spite of their suffering, not...
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Dorianne Laux
More Quotes By Walt Whitman
I like the scientific spirit–the holding off, the being sure but not too sure, the willingness to surrender ideas when the evidence is against them: this is ultimately fine–it always keeps the way beyond open–always gives life, thought, affection, the whole man, a chance to...
O Me! O life! .. of the questions of these recurring; Of the endless trains of the faithless–of cities fill’d with the foolish; Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light–of...
WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making, Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching, Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving. No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening, Misers,...
The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted, Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it...
