“This is what language is: a habitual grief. A turn of speech for the everyday and ordinary abrasion of losses such as this: which hurts just enough to be a scar And heals just enough to be a nation.” — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
I didn't know how to weigh ideas about poetry. Nothing in the life I lived as a student - and later as wife and… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
It has always seemed to me a great honor to be called an Irish poet. I don't think I will ever lose that, but… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
I loved the illusion, the conviction, the desire - whatever you want to call it - that the words were agents rather than extensions… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
When I was young, I struggled with authorship: with everything the word meant and failed to mean. Irish poetry was heavy with custom. Sometimes… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
One of the things women poets have been engaged in - among the other things they've been doing - is revising parts of the… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
In those years of the Fifties, in London and New York, I lived, without knowing it, in a time when the profoundest changes were… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
I began to write in an enclosed, self-confident literary culture. The poet's life stood in a burnished light in the Ireland of that time.… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
As far as I was concerned, it was the absence of women in the poetic tradition which allowed women in the poems to be… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
I had started writing as a poet in a closed, post-Revival, claustrophobic world, where the shadows of the national upheaval and the intense effort… — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
