Your temperament is what you write with, but it’s also how you deal with the world.
SEAMUS HEANEYThe experimental poetry thing is not my thing. It’s a programme of the avant-garde: basically a refusal of the kind of poetry I write.
More Seamus Heaney Quotes
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The gift of writing is to be self-forgetful, to get a surge of inner life or inner supply or unexpected sense of empowerment, to be afloat, to be out of yourself.
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In Northern Ireland, helicopters are not usually used to promote poetry.
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The problem as you get older, is that you become more self-aware. At the same time, you have to surprise yourself. There’s no way of arranging the surprise, so it is tricky.
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We go to poetry, we go to literature in general, to be forwarded within ourselves.
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It is very true to say that work done by writers is quite often an attempt to give solid expression to that which is bothering them. They feel they have got it right if they express the stress.
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The experimental poetry thing is not my thing. It’s a programme of the avant-garde: basically a refusal of the kind of poetry I write.
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Sonnet is about movement in a form.
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The completely solitary self: that’s where poetry comes from, and it gets isolated by crisis, and those crises are often very intimate also.
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If poetry and the arts do anything, they can fortify your inner life, your inwardness.
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The Ireland I now inhabit is one that these Irish contemporaries have helped to imagine.
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Poetry is what we do to break bread with the dead.
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The kinds of truth that art gives us many, many times are small truths. They don’t have the resonance of an encyclical from the Pope stating an eternal truth, but they partake of the quality of eternity. There is a sort of timeless delight in them.
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You yourself don’t have to be shaken by mortal danger in order to feel your mortality.
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Poetry is always slightly mysterious, and you wonder what is your relationship to it.
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My language and my sensibility are yearning to admit a kind of religious or transcendent dimension. But then there’s the reality: there’s no Heaven, no afterlife of the sort we were promised, and no personal God.
SEAMUS HEANEY