If the press see you looking normal they can suddenly be 'oh, she's got a spot on her face, she's having a bad day'. That can be quite cruel.
And how can poetry stand up against its new conditions? Its position is perfectly precarious.
When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble.
The image cannot be dispossessed of a primordial freshness, which idea can never claim. An idea is derivative and tamed. The imageis in the natural or wild state, and it has to be discovered there, not put there, obeying its own law and none of ours. We think we can lay hold of image and take it captive, but the docile captive is not the real image but only the idea, which is the image with its character beaten out of it.
God have mercy on the sinner Who must write with no dinner, No gravy and no grub, No pewter and no pub, No bellyand no bowels, Only consonants and vowels.
But we moderns are impatient and destructive.
In all the good Greek of Plato I lack my roastbeef and potato. A better man was Aristotle, Pulling steady on the bottle.
Messin with me, is like wearing cheese underwear down rat alley. Ollie Chandler in Deception
When focus increases, options decrease.
People say that I'm always late, but that's a myth
If it doesn't make sense, it's usually not true.