Percy Bysshe Shelley on poetry

Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.

Gold is a living god and rules in scorn,
All earthly things but virtue.

Love’s very pain is sweet,
But its reward is in the world divine
Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost1874–1963

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

T. S. Eliot1888–1965“Philip Massinger”, a biographical essay, in The Sacred Wood (1920)

Poetry too is a little incarnation, giving body to what had been before invisible and inaudible.

C. S. Lewis1898–1963Reflections on the Psalms