Geoffrey Hill Professions : Poet Born : June 18, 1932 Died : June 30, 2016 Browse All Authors Top 12 quotes by Geoffrey Hill We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We're difficult to ourselves, we're difficult to each other. And we are mysteries to ourselves, we are mysteries to each other. One encounters in any ordinary day far more real difficulty than one confronts in the most “intellectual” piece of work. Why is it believed that poetry, prose, painting, music should be less than we are? Why does music, why does poetry have to address us in simplified terms, when if such simplification were applied to a description of our own inner selves we would find it demeaning? Geoffrey Hill ordinary-days real self ... one of the things the tyrant most cunningly engineers is the gross over-simplification of language, because propaganda requires that the minds of the collective respond primitively to slogans of incitement. Geoffrey Hill tyrants language mind I think art has a right — not an obligation — to be difficult if it wishes. And, since people generally go on from this to talk about elitism versus democracy, I would add that genuinely difficult art is truly democratic. Geoffrey Hill people art thinking Public toilets have a duty to be accessible, poetry does not. Geoffrey Hill toilets duty doe We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We’re difficult to ourselves, we’re difficult to each other. Geoffrey Hill difficult human-beings humans Snooki is a bestselling author? Huh? What? I don't know if I should dumb down my book, shoot myself or find a publisher who'll settle for a rough draft written on a Pop-Tart and a coconut lotion handie. Geoffrey Hill rough-drafts dumb book Platonic England, house of solitudes, Geoffrey Hill solitude stones house As estimated, you died. Things marched, Geoffrey Hill routine cry death Autumn resumes the land, ruffles the woods Geoffrey Hill autumn nature land Thus I grind to conclusion. Geoffrey Hill conclusion grind Dig -- the mostly uncouth -- language of grace. Geoffrey Hill uncouth language grace September fattens on vines. Roses flake from the wall. The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. This is plenty. This is more than enough. Geoffrey Hill wall eye fire Similar Authors Abdellatif Laabi poet Ihara Saikaku poet Abram Joseph Ryan poet Ingeborg Bachmann poet Izumi Shikibu poet Bion of Smyrna poet All Authors
