He is the true enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagination and the heart.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Whatever deceives men seems to produce a magical enchantment.
The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.
The poet is in command of his fantasy, while it is exactly the mark of the neurotic that he is possessed by his fantasy.
Only he shakes the heavens and from its treasures takes our the winds. He joins the waters and the clouds and produces the rain. He does all those things. Only he realizes miracles permanently.
Seeing Shakespeare in the Park, for me, it's just this side of feeling like you've witnessed some kind of magic. It's this spell that you're under, to be part of that!
Poetry, just because it is poetry, doesn't mean it is some kind of magic spell.
It is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment without having a critic, forever, like the old man of the sea, upon his back.
God guides us from within. He does nothing more than that. There is no charm in God shaping us like a potter. We are not earthen wares; we are beings full of consciousness.
Every age can be enchanting, provided you live within it.
He is winding the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.
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