Every word was once a poem.

All that is worth remembering in life, is the poetry of it

There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it

We are surrounded by poetry on all sides...

It probably started in poetry; almost everything does.

There is a poem at the heart of things and a mythic story in the heart of each of us.

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph.

Every poem is a prayer, a supplication in the cacophony of humanity.

Poetry turns all things to loveliness; it exalts the beauty of that which is most beautiful, and it adds beauty to that which is most deformed; it marries exultation and horror, grief and pleasure, eternity and change; it subdues to union under its light yoke all irreconcilable things. It transmutes all that it touches, and every form moving within the radiance of its presence is changed by wondrous sympathy to an incarnation of the spirit which it breathes: its secret alchemy turns to potable gold the poisonous waters which flow from death through life; it strips the veil of familiarity from the world, and lays bare the naked and sleeping beauty, which is the spirit of its forms.

Love is poetry, poetry is love

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

I find everything poetic, and it’s in the corners of my heart which are sometimes mysterious that I catch a glimpse of poetry… I feel a sensation that leads me into a poetic state…

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is the countenance of all science.

And all art is poetry. Art goes deeper than thought. Deeper than the stories about yourself. It breaks through inner walls and accesses what’s behind. If we get out of the way and let the art do its work, it may yield the sincerity we seek. And sincerity may look nothing like we expected.