Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown, Student of our sweet English tongue, I never indulge in poetics - Unless I am down with rheumatics.

When it comes to writers and poets, for me it's Vinicius de Moraes. He's one of the greatest lyricists ever.

Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words.

I'd always loved poetry and I'd always loved writing music and composing music, but I hadn't thought of putting the two together until around that time.

I am happy that I could collaborate with poets like O.N.V. Kurup and Yusufali Kechery in my career; they wrote meaningful lyrics, which made my songs last longer.

The poet is he who can write some pure mythology today without the aid of posterity.

To love is to transform; to be a poet.

Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls.

In poetic thought, the role of the subconscious is played by euphony.

Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.

The Muses were dumb while Apollo lectured.

Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story

From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

I think of mythology as the homeland of the muses, the inspirers of art, the inspirers of poetry. To see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you.

For poets (bear the word) Half-poets even, are still whole democrats.

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.

Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music, Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees.

There is a majesty and mystery in nature, take her as you will. The essence of poetry comes breathing to a mind that feels from every province of her empire.

I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.

All the things that are negative in me as a person - the incompetence and despair and weakness and pain - are like a gift from God in a performer. If you don't hide them and if you stop lying to yourself about what you are and are not, there is a ring or a tent or a stage where you can take them and use them to make something beautiful.

How is it that the poets have said so many fine things about our first love, so few about our later love? Are their first poems their best? or are not those the best which come from their fuller thought, their larger experience, their deeper-rooted affections? The boy's flute-like voice has its own spring charm; but the man should yield a richer, deeper music.

with poems one accomplishes so little when one writes them early. One should hold off and gather sense and sweetness a whole life long, a long life if possible, and then, right at the end, one could perhaps write ten lines that are good.