If the poem can be improved by the author's explanations, it never should have been published. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Poetry which owes no man anything, owes nevertheless one debt - an image of the world in which men can again believe. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Poets... are literal-minded men who will squeeze a word till it hurts. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
If the art of poetry is?the art of making sense of the chaos of human experience, it's not a bad thing to… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
“And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth's noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
If you commit yourself to the art of poetry, you commit yourself to the task of learning how to see, using words… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Young poets are advised by their elders to avoid the practice of journalism as they would wet socks and gin before breakfast. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Conventional wisdom notwithstanding, there is no reason either in football or in poetry why the two should not meet in a man's… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Journalism is concerned with events, poetry with feelings. Journalism is concerned with the look of the world, poetry with the feel of… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Journalism wishes to tell what it is that has happened everywhere as though the same things had happened for every man. Poetry… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
To separate journalism and poetry, therefore-history and poetry-to set them up at opposite ends of the world of discourse, is to separate… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
The one man who should never attempt an explanation of a poem is its author. If the poem can be improved by… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
“The first discipline is the realization that there is a discipline—-that all art begins and ends with discipline, that any art is… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
“ Ars Poetica A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share Image
Never in all their history have men been able truly to conceive of the world as one: a single sphere, a globe, having the… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
How shall freedom be defended? By arms when it is attacked by arms, by truth when it is attacked by lies, by faith when… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
Around, around the sun we go: The moon goes round the earth. We do not die of death: We die of vertigo. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
What you really have to know is one: yourself. And the only way you can know that one is in the mirror of the… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
Poets... are literal-minded men who will squeeze a word till it hurts. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
“American foreign policy was a mirror image of Russian foreign policy: whatever the Russians did, we did in reverse. American domestic policies were conducted… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
To separate journalism and poetry, therefore-history and poetry-to set them up at opposite ends of the world of discourse, is to separate seeing from… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
The infantile cowardice of our time which demands an external pattern, a nonhuman authority. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
Races didn't bother the Americans. They were something a lot better than any race. They were a People. They were the first self-constituted, self-declared,… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
Young poets are advised by their elders to avoid the practice of journalism as they would wet socks and gin before breakfast. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
There are those, I know, who will reply that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream.… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
“What is freedom? Freedom is the right to choose: the right to create for oneself the alternatives of choice. Without the possibility of choice… — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
What once was cuddled must learn to kiss The cold wonn's mouth. That's all the mystery. — Archibald MacLeish Copy Share
