The world, in its sheer exuberance of kindness, will try to bury the poet with warm and lovely human trivialities. It will even ask him to autograph books.

Living in a bookshop is like living in a warehouse of explosives. Those shelves are ranked with the most furious combustibles in the world--the brains of men.

Big shots are only little shots who keep shooting.

Blessed is the satirist; and blessed the ironist; blessed the witty scoffer, and blessed the sentimentalist; for each, having seen one spoke of the wheel, thinks to have seen all, and is content.

A critic is a gong at a railroad crossing clanging loudly and vainly as the train goes by.

The greatest poem ever known Is one all poets have outgrown: The poetry, innate, untold, Of being only four years old.

The real purpose of books is to trap the mind into doing its own thinking.