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I read I travel I become

Derek Walcott

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Derek Walcott
Age: 87 †
Born: 1930
Born: January 23
Died: 2017
Died: March 17
Author
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Derek Alton Walcott
Sir Derek Alton Walcott
Inspire
Travel
Read
Become

More quotes by Derek Walcott

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The mirror is believed the way a poem is believed. It's believed because it's there.
Derek Walcott
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To change your language you must change your life.
Derek Walcott
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Memory that yearns to join the centre, a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed, like those bamboo thighs of the god.
Derek Walcott
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Good science and good art are always about a condition of awe. I don't think there is any other function for the poet or the scientist in the human tribe but the astonishment of the soul.
Derek Walcott
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There's always more to see.
Derek Walcott
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A culture, we all know, is made by its cities.
Derek Walcott
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We read, we travel, we become.
Derek Walcott
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The voice does go up in a poem. It is an address, even if it is to oneself.
Derek Walcott
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I look in the mirror. There's me. What's in the mirror is not real. So am I unreal?
Derek Walcott
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The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.
Derek Walcott
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When you get a class reciting some great poems, it'll tear your heart out.
Derek Walcott
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We look and see what we see in a mirror, and we believe it. That's important, the question of belief. The question is: Should we believe what we see in a mirror?
Derek Walcott
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She's a rare vase, out of a cat's reach, on its shelf.
Derek Walcott
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Damn wind shift sudden as a woman mind.
Derek Walcott
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You can't write drunk.
Derek Walcott
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The thing that is believed is a reality.
Derek Walcott
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For every poet it is always morning in the world history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.
Derek Walcott
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The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.
Derek Walcott
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In Eden who sleeps happiest? The serpent.
Derek Walcott
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When poems are no good they don't make any sense.
Derek Walcott