If you were going to choose a way of making your way in this world and a place to start from, you might not choose poetry and you might not choose Huddersfield.

The ordinary can be absolutely miraculous.

You’re beautiful because when you were born, undiscovered planets lined up to peep over the rim of your cradle and lay gifts of gravity and light at your miniature feet

We still need a voice that thinks before it speaks.

People who read poetry, for example, like the feel, the heft and the smell of a book.

In all the poems I've written I've not really engaged in politics, and when I've found myself moving in that direction I've always stopped myself.

And wonder, dread and war have lingered in that land where loss and love in turn have held the upper hand.

The Huddersfield that I like best is a large town with a big heart and an open mind.

I wondered if people might not have had enough of Simon Armitage and wondered whether I hadn't had enough of Simon Armitage.

This misfortune you find is of your own manufacture.

This misfortune you find is of your own manufacture. Keep hold of what you have, it will harm no other, for hatred comes home to the hand that chose it.

Forgiveness is a clean lotion that heals the wounds of misunderstandings! To iron out the differences

When the seagulls follow the trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.

I always see what’s... wrong. Would you want that? When I see a car or a rocket or spacecraft, I only see what’s wrong. I never see what’s right. It’s not a recipe for happiness.

A must have for women? Confidence! Be yourself!

Judge for yourself who's still fighting for change and who got sick on power, because the person in the Miraflores has forgotten about the people of Venezuela.

When the whole world turns clown, and paints itself red with its own hearts blood instead of vermilion, it is something else than comic.

I don't know whether a poem has be there to help to develop something. I think it's there for itself, for what the reader finds in it.

Is art really the priesthood that demands the pure in heart who belong to it wholly?

... women have their roots in the ground, and often those roots are starved and ravaged, yet there is not a human alive who cannot reach and touch, with... her fingers, the very top of God's rainbow.

Train yourself to be in awe of the subtle, and you will live in a world of beauty and ease.