Showing posts with label purpose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label purpose. Show all posts
no keys
The purpose of poetry is to remind us
how difficult it is to remain just one person,
for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors,
and invisible guests come in and out at will.
—Czeslaw Milosz, from “Ars Poetica?” in The Collected Poems: 1931-1987 (Ecco Press, 1988)
Labels:
Czeslaw Milosz,
guests,
house,
keys,
purpose
Poetry is not magic. In so far as poetry, or any other of the arts, can be said to have an ulterior purpose, it is, by telling the truth, to disenchant and disintoxicate.
—W.H. Auden, The Dyer's Hand and Other Essays (Vintage Books/Random House, 1989)
—W.H. Auden, The Dyer's Hand and Other Essays (Vintage Books/Random House, 1989)
Labels:
disenchant,
disintoxicate,
magic,
purpose,
truth,
W. H. Auden
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