A Quote by Stephen King

The poets continually and sometimes wilfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer. — © Stephen King
The poets continually and sometimes wilfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer.
Poets seem to write more easily about love than prose writers. For a start, they own that flexible ‘I’…. Then again, poets seem able to turn bad love – selfish, shitty love – into good love poetry. Prose writers lack this power of admirable, dishonest transformation. We can only turn bad love into prose about bad love. So we are envious (and slightly distrustful) when poets talk to us of love.
It is not that love sometimes makes mistakes, but that it is, essentially, a mistake. We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfections on to another person. One day the phantasmagoria vanishes, and with it love dies.
Young poets bewail the passing of love; old poets, the passing of time. There is surprisingly little difference.
There are two classes of poets - the poets by education and practice, these we respect; and poets by nature, these we love.
Love is the feeling we get when we recognize the positive attributes in another. You have to continually and actively watch for the best parts of someone else that will let you experience love. I like this definition of love because it's not just for the romantic lovers out there but the love of a friend, a mother, sibling - all kinds of love.
I used to love you I still do So Selfish I love the old you The you that didnt shoot drugs ...The you that didnt get beat on by men You laugh in my face and call me a fool But its true I still love you Sometimes,I can see the old you When your eyes flash When you almost look alive
Sometimes the greatest love is not found in the dramatic scenes that poets and writers immortalize. Often, the greatest manifestations of love are the simple acts of kindness and caring we extend to those we meet along the path of life.
Poets are the only people to whom love is not only a crucial, but an indispensable experience, which entitles them to mistake it for a universal one.
The challenge is to keep up with all the new poets at the same time I love the old ones.
I have heard what poets write about women. They rhyme and rhapsodize and lie. I have watched sailors on the shore stare mutely at the slow-rolling swell of the sea. I have watched old soldiers with hearts like leather grow teary-eyed at their king's colors stretched against the wind. Listen to me: these men know nothing of love. You will not find it in the words of poets or the longing eyes of sailors. If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows.
There are many ways to love someone. Sometimes we want love so much, we're not too choosy about who we love. Other times, we make love such a pure and noble thing, no poor human can ever meet our vision. But for the most part, love is a recognition, an opportunity to say, "There is something about you I cherish." It doesn't entail marriage, or even physical love. There's love of parents, love of city or nation, love of life, and love of people. All different, all love.
I love men. I've always been drawn to poets, artists, and madmen. Sometimes all three in one
It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
Sometimes,' Sylvie said, 'one can mistake gratitude for love.
In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
Any place you love is the world to you”, explained the pensive Catherine Wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her broken heart; “but love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much about that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent. I remember myself once- But it is no matter now. Romance is a thing of the past.
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