“[I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.”
Explore This Quote Further
Analysis of the Quote by Dylan Thomas
In this quote, Dylan Thomas distinguishes himself as a "freak user of words" rather than a traditional poet. By doing so, he implies that his approach to writing is unconventional and bold, not conforming to the norms of poetry. This statement speaks to Thomas's unique creativity and his willingness to push the boundaries of language and form in his work. Thomas's self-awareness of his writing style serves as a testament to his distinct voice as a poet.
Exploring the modern relevance of Dylan Thomas's words
Dylan Thomas's statement, "[I'm] a freak user of words, not a poet," speaks to the unique, unconventional way he approached language and poetry. In today's digital age, where social media and technology have transformed how we communicate, Thomas's sentiment can be seen as a celebration of individuality and creativity in the realm of language usage. Embracing one's idiosyncrasies and unique voice can be empowering and allow for self-expression in a world that often values conformity.
Dylan Thomas on his use of words
One of the most famous poets of the 20th century, Dylan Thomas, is known for his unique way with words. In a self-deprecating statement, he said, “I'm a freak user of words, not a poet.” This quote highlights Thomas's unconventional approach to language and his willingness to push the boundaries of traditional poetry.
Reflection Questions:
Dylan Thomas described himself as a "freak user of words, not a poet." What do you think he meant by this statement? How does this challenge traditional definitions of what it means to be a poet?
Do you believe that one must follow conventional forms and structures to be considered a poet, or can one still be a poet by simply playing with language in unique and unconventional ways?
How do you think Thomas's approach to language and poetry reflects his individuality and creativity as a writer?
![Quote by Dylan Thomas: “[I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.” - Image 1](https://img.thequotesearch.com/img.thequotesearch.com/article-images/dylan-thomas-ima-freak-user-of-words-not-a-poet-0.jpg)
Similar quotes
“Come on up, boys-I'm dead.”
“Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.”
“On No Work of WordsOn no work of words now for three lean months in the bloodyBelly of the rich year and the big purse of my bodyI bitterly take to task my poverty and craft:To take to give is all, return what is hungrily givenPuffing the pounds of manna up through the dew to heaven,The lovely gift of the gab bangs back on a blind shaft.To lift to leave from the treasures of man is pleasing deathThat will rake at last all currencies of the marked breathAnd count the taken, forsaken mysteries in a bad dark.To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice.Ancient woods of my blood, dash down to the nut of the seasIf I take to burn or return this world which is each man's work.”
“Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
“You don't necessarily have to write to be a poet. Some people work in gas stations and they're poets. I don't call myself a poet, because I don't like the word. I'm a trapeze artist.”
“Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea.”