At twelve I was determined to shoot only For honor; at twenty not to shoot at all; I know at thirty-three that one must shoot As often as one gets the rare chance - In killing there is more than commentary.

Poets, in their way, are practical men; they are interested in results.

For intellect is a mansion where waste is without drain.

The Spring I seek is in a new face only.

In a manner of speaking, the poem is its own knower, neither poet nor reader knowing anything that the poem says apart from the words of the poem.

What is the poem, after it is written? That is the question. Not where it came from or why.

A poem may be an instance of morality, of social conditions, of psychological history; it may instance all its qualities, but never one of them alone, nor any two or three; never less than all.