Poet Quotes
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"You're next, after the feather dancers." And you had to get their attention, because otherwise people would go, "Oh, a poet." You really have to learn.
Sandra Cisneros
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To be a poet is to place pleasure, beauty and sensual delights front and centre, it means having a predilection for debauchery.
Nicole Brossard
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I shall, in due time, be a Poet.
Ada Lovelace
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According to them, the poet is confined to the provinces with his mouth broken on his own syllabic trapeze.
Salvatore Quasimodo
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Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me.
Sigmund Freud
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The poet Melvin B. Tolson once said "A civilization is judged only in its decline." That made sense to me. I would imagine the same is true for poets and tennis players.
Yolande Cornelia "Nikki" Giovanni, Jr.
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There are poets who believe that you shouldn't engage at all in any cause. And there's something to be said for that. Because you don't want to - I think most political poetry is very bad. And it's very bad because you know too much to start with. You have a sense that you're right, and you're trying to tell other people what's right. And I think that's always kind of fundamentalism, and I don't like it.
W. S. Merwin
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Malcolm X is a person who has inspired - he has been the muse of several generations of black cultural workers, artists, poets, playwrights.
Manning Marable
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The work of the painter, the poet or the musician, like the myths and symbols of the savage, ought to be seen by us, if not as a superior form of knowledge, at least as the most fundamental and the only one really common to us all; scientific thought is merely the sharp point more penetrating because it has been whetted on the stone of fact, but at the cost of some loss of substance and its effectiveness is to be explained by its power to pierce sufficiently deeply for the main body of the tool to follow the head.
Claude Levi-Strauss
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To be a good poet, you must care more about the writing, than the writer.
Lucille Clifton
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The poet is an untier of knots, and love without words is a knot, and it drowns.
Gabriela Mistral
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Cynie Cory roams the outer reaches of the heart’s territory, from the snowy winter of family life to the tropical jungles of love. She wears her heart on her sleeve and it is as big as the country she writes about. Is she the quintessential American girl? You bet she is, part Annie Oakley, part Emily Dickinson – harpshooting poet of wild nights. She zooms in on the detritus of love – the broken fragments, the fallen leaves – and puts together a collage that is as heartbreaking as it is beautiful. Watch out – she’s driving down your street.
Barbara Hamby