Poetry, love, or God... substitute as seems fit

From Adrienne Rich's What is Found There: Notebooks on Poetry and Politics:

Poetry will not fly across the sea, against the storms, to any "new world," any "promised land," and then fold its wings and sing. Poetry is not a resting on the given, but a questing toward what might otherwise be. It will always pick a quarrel with the found place, the refuge, the sanctuary, the revolution that is losing momentum. Even though the poet, human being with many anxious fears, might want just to rest, acclimate, adjust, bevome naturalized, learn to write in a new landscape, a new language. Poetry will go on harassing the poet until, and unless it is driven away.