Always carry a corkscrew and the wine shall provide itself.

The times are squalid. They always were. It is a poet's duty to hold the line.

But their determination to banish fools foundered ultimately in the installation of absolute idiots.

Always carry a corkscrew and the wine shall provide itself.

Prose exists to convey meaning, and no meaning such as prose conveys can be expressed as well in poetry. That's not poetry's purpose.

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.

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.