The fog comes on little cat feet.
What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
I am! I have come through! I belong!
Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself.
Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.
People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.
I make it clear why I write as I do and why other poets write as they do. After hundreds of experiments I decided to go my own way in style and see what would happen.
The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
Tell me if the lovers are losers... tell me if any get more than the lovers.
The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.
There are ten men in me and I do not know or understand one of them.
Let your heart look on white sea spray and be lonely. Love is a fool star. You and a ring of stars may mention my name and then forget me. Love is a fool star.
Somebody's little girl- how easy it is to make a sob story over who she once was and who she now is.
The more rhymethere isin poetry the more dangerof its tricking the writer into something other than the urge in the beginning.
I am still studying verbs and the mystery of how they connect nouns. I am more suspicious of adjectives than at any other time in all my born days.
The people know what the land knows.
The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.
There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.
If I added to their pride of America, I am happy.
I took to wearing a black tie known as the Ascot, with long drooping ends. I had seen pictures of painters, sculptors, poets, wearing this style of tie.
There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.
Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: