Fate would never permit happiness to a man of such talent-a content poet is a mediocre one, a happy poet is insufferable.
The artist (I suppose) usually pays for the privilege by some sort of partial insomnia, by the possession of one faculty that will not be controlled nor put to sleep. In a poet this must often be the visual imagination, bringing before his eyes a succession of images which he never summoned, and of which some (it is only too likely) will be ugly or pitiful.
Jane Austen And Her Art
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The artist (I suppose) usually pays for the privilege by some sort of partial insomnia, by the possession of one faculty that will not be controlled nor put to sleep. In a poet this must often be the visual imagination, bringing before his eyes a succession of images which he never summoned, and of which some (it is only too likely) will be ugly or pitiful.
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it was dawning on me how uphill a poet's path was, and I confessed to her that if I had to be the choice between being happy or being a poet, I'd choose to be happy.
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He tasted like chocolate and hazelnut liqueur and she wanted to feast on him for the rest of the night. His kiss_ his kiss took her to another place where fireworks blazed.
What if pretending is interfering with the person you__e meant to be?_ he said.