Okay, well, here's a quote I just found, which reminded me of a discussion I had a bit ago that struck me as "true":
When you get to writing poems down whatever is the object of your intent is as useless a thing as what isn’t. This ain’t circular logic. After all, Intent (as such) itself is bogie numero uno. The act of writing is exploratory—or better be, given what reality we face assigned the task of sorting out our endeavors. Quelling the tide of the ever-rising noise which encircles the arbitrary spheres of our social quacking, to knicker-box the damn thing out and stand it up in a company of its peers is no small task...
This quote is from here.
When you get to writing poems down whatever is the object of your intent is as useless a thing as what isn’t. This ain’t circular logic. After all, Intent (as such) itself is bogie numero uno. The act of writing is exploratory—or better be, given what reality we face assigned the task of sorting out our endeavors. Quelling the tide of the ever-rising noise which encircles the arbitrary spheres of our social quacking, to knicker-box the damn thing out and stand it up in a company of its peers is no small task...
This quote is from here.