“Then I knew that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them.”
“I became weary of the poets, of the old and of the new: superficial are they all unto me, and shallow seas. They did not think sufficiently into the depth; therefore their feeling did not reach to the bottom.”
“Why do poets always talk about the ocean’s waves,
about their single file march to shore,
and yet never talk about my grandmother’s farts,
which arrive in time, one after the other, with equal regularity?”
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