Can a moment of madness make up for an age of consent?
The times are squalid. They always were. It is a poet's duty to hold the line.
Always carry a corkscrew and the wine shall provide itself.
I hate Science. It denies a man's responsibility for his own deeds, abolishes the brotherhood that springs from God's fatherhood. It is a hectoring, dictating expertise, which makes the least lovable of the Church Fathers seem liberal by contrast.
Sooner or later we must absorb Islam if our own culture is not to die of anemia.
The mystic purchases a moment of exhilaration with a lifetime of confusion; and the confusion is infectious and destructive. It is confusing and destructive to try and explain anything in terms of anything else, poetry in terms of psychology.