Who, except the poets, reads poetry?
There is no end to grief. Nor no end to poetry.
Music proposes. Sound disposes.
Poetry is the fiery index to the genius of the age.
The poet, like the lover, is a person unable to reconcile what he knows with what he feels. His peculiarity is that he is under a certain compulsion to do so.
The poet who speaks out of the deepest instincts of man will be heard. The poet who creates a myth beyond the power of man to realize is gagged at the peril of the group that binds him. He is the true revolutionary: he builds a new world.