Rick Yancey Quotes

Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.

Poetry is a puppet-show, where riders of skyrockets and divers of sea fathoms gossip about the sixth sense and the fourth dimension.

I, Kusama, am the modern Alice in Wonderland.

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

No verse can give pleasure for long, nor last, that is written by drinkers of water.

Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.

Oui, dans mon rêve, j'étais un crayon, mais admittedly, I'd more suitably be characterized as a plump carrot.

An age which is incapable of poetry is incapable of any kind of literature except the cleverness of a decadence.

Do you not see with your own eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction?

In 'Hokey Pokey,' bikes are kind of more than bikes alone. They become mustangs; they become creatures that rip up the dust as they gallop across the Great Plains.

I have a fondness for when the landscape becomes surreal.

For her I changed pebbles into diamonds, shoes into mirrors, I changed glass into water, I gave her wings and pulled birds from her ears and in her pockets she found the feathers, I asked a pear to become a pineapple, a pineapple to become a lightbulb, a lightbulb to become the moon, and the moon to become a coin I flipped for her love.

This rose became a bandanna, which became a house, which became infused with all passion, which became a hideaway, which became yes I would like to have dinner, which became hands, which became lands, shores, beaches, natives on the stones, staring and wild beasts in the trees, chasing the hats of lost hunters, and all this deserves a tone.

My foregrounds are imaginary, my backgrounds real.

At first she dreamed of sheep, of going to school, of cats drinking milk. Little by little she dreamed of blue sheep, of going to school in the middle of the woods, of cats drinking milk from golden saucers. And her dreams became increasingly dense and acquired colours that were difficult to dilute into words.

Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.

The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.

Poetry is perhaps what teaches us to nurture the charming illusion: how to be reborn out of ourselves over and over again, and use words to construct a better world, a fictitious world that enables us to sign a pact for a permanent and comprehensive peace ... with life.

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are.

All of the art that I love is about peeling back layers and delving into something that's in a subconscious or dream realm. People like Jan Svankmajer, or the artist Yoshimoto Nara, or David Lynch.

I realized that everything I do is fantasy, whether it is an adult movie or a kids movie.

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.

When you have spent an important part of your life playing Let's Pretend, it's often easy to see symbolism where none exists.

I like rhyme because it is memorable, I like form because having to work to a pattern gives me original ideas.