The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i. e. , the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force.
Poetry is a sort of homecoming.
Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.
Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.
A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always strong-hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart. In this way, too, poems are en route: they are headed towards. Toward what? Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality. Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem.
Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.
German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry. . . . Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts "beauty. " It tries to be truthful.
The denial of contemporary genius is the rule rather than the exception. No one counts the eagles in the nest, till there is a rush of wings; and lo! they are flown.
I really do not think there is a serious split between Republicans and Democrats in Congress in how responsive they are to constituents.
We must redefine the American Dream before we can rebuild the infrastructure on which it is based.
As the son of a Protestant Christian mother and a Shia Muslim father, I have nevertheless ended up without a religious bone in my body.