I knew very well what I meant by these words, but I did not know that they would give rise to such echoes and reactions in the world of lovers of literature. I merely wanted to draw attention to a fact, not to enunciate a theory, still less to define a doctrine and hold as heretics all who did not share it. In my eyes all written works, all works of language, contain certain fragments or recognizable elements, endowed with properties which we are about to examine and which I shall provisionally call poetic. Every time words show a certain deviation from the most direct, that is, the most insensible expression of thought, every time these deviations foreshadow, as it were, a world of relationships distinct from the purely practical world, we conceive more or less precisely the possibility of enlarging this exceptional domain, and we have the sensation of grasping a fragment of a noble and living substance, which is perhaps susceptible of development and cultivation, and which, when developed and used, constitutes poetry in so far as it is an effect of art.
-- Paul Valéry, The Art of Poetry (translated by Denise Folliot)
some food for thought vis-ŕ-vis Eliot's art of poetry