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Poetry: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Poetry is itself a thing of God; He made his prophets poets; and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power, -under-makers.— BAILEY — Festus. Proem. L. 5.
For rhyme the rudder is of verses, With which, like ships, they steer their courses.— BUTLER — Hudibras. Pt. I. Canto I. L. 463.
Some force whole regions, in despite O' geography, to change their site; Make former times shake hands with latter, And that which was before come after; But those that write in rhyme still make The one verse for the other's sake; For one for sense, and one for rhyme, I think's sufficient at one time.— BUTLER — Hudibras. Pt. II. Canto I. L. 23.
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.— BYRON — Childe Harold. Canto I. St. 3.
The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.— BYRON — The Corsair. Preface.
For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a biography, the life of a man; also, it may be said, there is no life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its sort, rhymed or unrhymed.— CARLYLE — Sir Walter Scott. London
and Westminster Review. 1838. In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column: In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.— COLERIDGE — The Ovidian Elegiac Metre.
Prose-words in their best order; -poetrythe best words in their best order.— COLEKIDGE- — Table Talk. July 12, 1827.
That passage is what I call the sublime dashed to pieces by cutting too close with the fiery four-in-hand round the corner of nonsense.— COLERIDGE — Table Talk. Jan. 20, 1834.
Made poetry a mere mechanic art.— COWPER — Table Talk. L. 654.
Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme? Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?— CRABBE — The Village. Bk. I.
When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut, When the reason stands on its squarest toes, When the mind (like a beard) has a "formal cut,"- There is a place and enough for the pains of prose; But whenever the May-blood stirs and glows, And the young year draws to the "golden prime," And Sir Romeo sticks in his ear a rose, - Then hey! for the ripple of laughing rhyme!— AUSTIN DOBSON — The Ballad of Prose
and Rhyme. Doeg, though without knowing how or why, Made still a blundering kind of melody; Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin, Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in; Free from all meaning whether good or bad, And in one word, heroically mad.— DRYDEN — Absalom and Achitophel. Pt. II. L. 412.
Happy who in his verse can gently steer From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.— DRYDEN — The Art of Poetry. Canto I. L. 75.
For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem.— EMERSON — Essays. The Poet.
It does not need that a poem should be long. Every word was once a poem.— EMERSON — Essays. The Poet.
The finest poetry was first experience. S. EMERSON Shakespeare. The true poem is the poet's mind.— EMERSON — Essays. Of History.
Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound; All at her work the village maiden sings, Nor while she turns the giddy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.— GIFFORD — Contemplation.
What is a Sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell That murmurs of the far-off, murmuring sea; A precious jewel carved most curiously; It is a little picture painted well. What is a Sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell From a great poet's hidden ecstacy; A two-edged sword, a star, a song-ah me! Sometimes a heavy tolling funeral bell.— R. W. GILDER — The Sonnet.
A verse may finde him who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice.— HERBERT — The Temple. The Church
Porch. To write a verse or two, is all the praise That I can raise. HERBERT The Church. Praise. For dear to gods and men is sacred song. Self-taught I sing; by Heaven and Heaven alone, The genuine seeds of poesy are sown.— HOMER — Odyssey. Bk. XXII. L. 382.
Pope's trans. The essence of poetry is invention; such invention as, by producing something unexpected, surprises and delights.— SAM'L JOHNSON — The Lives of the
English Poets. Life of Waller. Still may syllables jar with time, Still may reason war with rhyme, Resting never!— BEN JONSON — Underwoods. Fit of
Rhyme Against Rhyme. These are the gloomy comparisons of a disturbed imagination; the melancholy madness of poetry, without the inspiration.— JUNIUS — Letter No. VII. To Sir W.
Draper. A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power; 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.— KEATS — Sleep and Poetry. L. 237.
The poetry of earth is never dead; * * * * * * The poetry of earth is ceasing never.— KEATS — On the Grasshopper and Cricket.
For, of all compositions, he thought that the sonnet Best repaid all the toil you expended upon it.— LOWELL — A Fable for Critics. L. 368.
It ["The Ancient Mariner"] is marvellous in its mastery over that delightfully fortuitous inconsequence that is the adamantine logic of dreamland.— LOWELL — Among My Books. Coleridge.
Never did Poesy appear So full of heaven to me, as when I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear To the lives of coarsest men.— LOWELL — An Incident in a Railroad Car. St. 18.
These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred, Each softly lucent as a rounded moon; The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.— LOWELL — In a Copy of Omar Khayyám.
You speak As one who fed on poetry.— BULWER-LYTTON — Richelieu. Act I. Sc. 1.
The merit of poetry, in its wildest forms, still consists in its truth-truth conveyed to the understanding, not directly by the words, but circuitously by means of imaginative associations, which serve as its conductors.— MACAULAY — Essays. On the Athenian
Orators. We hold that the most wonderful and splendid proof of genius is a great poem produced in a civilized age.— MACAULAY — On Milton. 1825.
My unpremeditated verse.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IX. L. 24.
A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.— POPE — Essay on Criticism. Pt. II. L. 156.
Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe, Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear!— POPE — Prologue to Satires. L. 283,
The varying verse, the full resounding line, The long majestic march, and energy divine.— POPE — Horace. Bk. II. Ep. I. L. 267.
What woful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starv'd hackney sonneteer or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines. S.— POPE — Essay on Criticism. L. 418.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention. Henry V. Chorus. L. 1. The elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy. и.— Shakespeare — Love's Labour's Lost. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 126.
I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.— SHELLEY — Letter to Thomas L. Peacock.
Naples. Jan. 26, 1819. A poem round and perfect as a star.— ALEX. SMITH — A Life Drama. Sc. 2.
I was promised on a time, To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.— SPENSER — Lines on His Promised
Pension. See Fuller's Worthies, by NUTTALL. Vol. II. P. 379. One merit of poetry few persons will deny: it says more and in fewer words than prose.— VOLTAIRE — A Philosophical Dictionary.
Poets. Old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good.— IZAAK WALTON — The Compleat Angler. Pt. I. Ch. IV.
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.— WORDSWORTH — The Excursion. Bk. I.
Wisdom married to immortal verse.— WORDSWORTH — The Excursion. Bk. VII.
There is in Poesy a decent pride, Which well becomes her when she speaks to Prose, Her younger sister.— YOUNG — Night Thoughts. Night V. L. 64.
Diliguntur immodice sola quæ non licent; non nutrit ardorem concupiscendi, ubi frui licet. Forbidden pleasures alone are loved immoderately; when lawful, they do not excite desire.— QUINTILIAN — Declamationes.
XIV. 18. Prævalent illicita. Things forbidden have a secret charm.— TACITUS — Annales. XIII. 1.
Trahit sua quemque voluptas. His own especial pleasure attracts each one.— VIRGIL — Ecloga. II. 65.
Non satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto. It is not enough that poetry is agreeable, it should also be interesting.— HORACE — Ars Poetica. 99.
Nonumque prematur in annum. Let your poem be kept nine years.— HORACE — Ars Poetica. 388.
Versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ. Verses devoid of substance, melodious trifles.— HORACE — Ars Poetica CCCXXII.
Facit indignatio versum. Indignation produces the verse.— JUVENAL — Satiræ. I. 79.
Musæo contigens cuncta lepore. Gently touching with the charm of poetry.— LUCRETIUS — De Rerum Natura.
IV. 9. Verba togæ sequeris, junctura callidus acri, Ore teres modico, pallentes radere mores Doctus, et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo. Confined to common life thy numbers flow, And neither soar too high nor sink too low; There strength and ease in graceful union meet, Though polished, subtle, and though poignant, sweet; Yet powerful to abash the front of crime And crimson error's cheek with sportive rhyme. S.— PERSIUS — Satira. V. 14. Gifford's
trans. Tale tuum carmen nobis, divine poeta, Quale sopor fessis in gramine. Thy verses are as pleasing to me, O divine poet, as sleep is to the wearied on the soft turf.— VIRGIL — Eclogæ. V. 45.