Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own.
Poetry is the lifeblood of rebellion, revolution, and the raising of consciousness.
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement.
Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality.
Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.