Europe is so well gardened that it resembles a work of art, a scientific theory, a neat metaphysical system. Man has re-created Europe in his own image.

Words form the thread on which we string our experiences.

What drivel it all is!... A string of words called religion. Another string of words called philosophy. Half a dozen other stringscalled political ideals. And all the words either ambiguous or meaningless. And people getting so excited about them they'll murder their neighbours for using a word they don't happen to like. A word that probably doesn't mean as much as a good belch. Just a noise without even the excuse of gas on the stomach.

In regard to man's final end, all the higher religions are in complete agreement. The purpose of human life is the discovery of Truth, the unitive knowledge of the Godhead.

Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning, truth and beauty can't.

The poet's place, it seems to me, is with the Mr. Hydes of human nature.

What is absurd and monstrous about war is that men who have no personal quarrel should be trained to murder one another in cold blood.