Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.

Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.

Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.

There is a wolf in me... - I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

Poetry is an art practiced with the terribly plastic material of human language.

Poetry is statement of a series of equations, with numbers and symbols changing like the changes of mirrors, pools, skies, the only never-changing sign being the sign of infinity.

Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'