I may say that I think greed about poetry is the only permissible greed - it is, indeed, unavoidable.

In the Augustan age ... poetry was ... the sister of architecture; with the romantics, and their heightened vowel-sense, resulting in different melodic lines, she became the sister of music; in the present day, she appears like the sister of horticulture, each poem growing according to the law of its own nature.

The child and the great artist -- these alone receive the sensation fresh as it was at the beginning of the world.

I wish the government would put a tax on pianos for the incompetent.

Picasso was a delightful, kindly, friendly, simple little man. When I met him he was extremely excited and overjoyed that his mother-in-law had just died, and he was looking forward to the funeral.

As for the usefulness of poetry, its uses are many. It is the deification of reality. It should make our days holy to us. The poet should speak to all men, for a moment, of that other life of theirs that they have smothered and forgotten.

The aim of flattery is to soothe and encourage us by assuring us of the truth of an opinion we have already formed about ourselves.