Celestial Poetry Quotes & Sayings

Immersed in surrender and gratitude, celestial pearls of wisdom form rosaries of prayer that entangle with my soul. — Earthschool Harmony

[an encounter in space] Some celestial event. No
no words
no words to describe it. Poetry! They should have sent a poet. So beautiful. So beautiful ... I had no idea. I had no idea. — Carl Sagan

Music gives inspiration ... one that sounds windy with humming sound, such can put you in a trance, only to come back and discover some witty ideas. — Michael Bassey Johnson

True poetry is composed of metaphors and symbols which are born in the heart, rise like clouds, and assume a celestial form; verses formed otherwise are not poetry, but only artificial words, each of which contradicts the feelings inside. The utterances and words that have not been formed in a person's soul as the voice of conscience are all hollow, no matter how embellished they are or how dazzling they seem to be. — M. Fethullah Gulen

we have forgotten that we were born
of celestial cataclysm.

we have forgotten how to dance
bare-footed on the earth to the cadence
of our souls. we have forgotten the ritual
fires and the acrid tang of holy smoke
on our tongues. — Beth Morey

A hidden spark of the dream sleeps
In the forest and waits
In the celestial spheres of the brain. — Dejan Stojanovic

A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland. — Khalil Gibran

It may be safely affirmed that there neither is, nor can be, any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical composition ... They both speak by and to the same organs; the bodies in which both of them are clothed may be said to be of the same substance, their affections are kindred, and almost identical, not necessarily differing even in degree; Poetry sheds no tears "such as Angels weep," but natural and human tears; she can boast of no celestial ichor that distinguishes her vital juices from those of prose; the same human blood circulates through the veins of them both. — William Wordsworth

Seek me not in your richness, O dear, search not amidst the words talkative. Find me in the moments of loneliness, in the silence of your mighty soul. Within the void of intimate being this is me, the majestic blue - the cessation of all; and here your are in the celestial path. — Preeth Nambiar