The Truth of Imagination
Welcome to a page dedicated to poetry from the past 200 years and to poet John Keats. Snippets of information on poetic lives, quotes and art to reflect the role of verse in our fast paced 21st century world.
Suzie Grogan is a freelance writer and researcher who writes on literature, social history and health issues.
Contact Suzie @keatsbabe on Twitter and visit her at www.nowrigglingoutofwriting.wordpress.com
Posts tagged quote
Nov 8 '11
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“Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.”
—Gabriel García Márquez
142 notes (via vintageanchorbooks)
Nov 1 '11
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“Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.”
— W. Somerset Maugham (via garptwo)
22 notes (via bdgarp)
Oct 15 '11
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“So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.”
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.”
— Birches - Robert Frost
4 notes
Oct 7 '11
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Words are Deeds: What is a Poet?
He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and…
117 notes (via wordaondworca)
Oct 7 '11
Sep 24 '11
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“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
— Oscar Wilde (via slekes)
1,696 notes (via slekes)
Sep 7 '11
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“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”
— Pablo Neruda (via graciouswords)
229 notes (via graciouswords)
