| Quote | Poet | Poem |
|---|
| Stone walls do not a prison make | |
| I heard a Fly buzz — when I died | |
| The land was ours before we were the land's | |
| Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair | |
| I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be | |
| In silent night when rest I took // For sorrow near I did not look | |
| Death be not proud, though some have called thee // Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so | |
| How do I love thee? Let me count the ways | |
| Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? // Thou art more lovely and more temperate | |
| And though // We are not now that strength which in old days // Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are | |
| And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, // Went home and put a bullet in his head. | |
| The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand on me, // But do not hide your face. | |
| | Quote | Poet | Poem |
|---|
| Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth // A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. | |
| I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked | |
| Beware the Fury of a Patient Man | |
| I am one // Who eats his breakfast, // Gazing at morning glories. (translation) | |
| Poems are made by fools like me // But only God can make a tree | |
| hugest whole creation may be less // incalculable than a single kiss | |
| Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home: // Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine. | |
| O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you; // I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the So | |
| Listen, my children, and you shall hear // Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere | |
| Nothing is stronger than habit (translation) | |
| Time is the school in which we learn, // Time is the fire in which we burn. | |
| There is a place where the sidewalk ends // And before the street begins, | |
|
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