Wisława Szymborska (July 02, 1923- February 01, 2012) I walk on the slope of a hill gone green. Grass, little flowers in the grass, as in a children’s illustration. The misty sky’s already turning blue. A view of other hills unfolds in silence. As if there’d never been any Cambrians, Silurians, rocks snarling at crags, …
When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses… We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda; it is a form of truth. — John F. Kennedy
