Poetry is herring bones tied up in scraps of blue paper.
—Mr. Lucas Brice, from a letter to Philip K. Dick, 1976
Poetry is like a sandwich. On the outside, you’ve got slices of bread. Inside, there are bits of meat, maybe some lettuce, or tomato. And you eat it, and you are no longer hungry.
—Mr. Lucas Brice, on David Mitchell Talks to Mr. Lucas Brice, BBC Radio 4, 2012
If you encountered strange beings from another planet who didn’t speak your language, you could read them a poem, and they would understand it. Poetry is funny that way.
—Mr. Lucas Brice, The Poetry Café, London, 2005