Poetry is a sort of inspired mathematics, which gives us equations, not for abstract figures, triangles, squares, and the like, but for the human emotions. If one has a mind which inclines to magic rather than science, one will prefer to speak of these equations as spells or incantations; it sounds more arcane, mysterious, recondite.

Use no superfluous word, no adjective, which does not reveal something.

Humanity is the rich effluvium, it is the waste and the manure and the soil, and from it grows the tree of the arts.

What thou lovest well remains.

The book shd. be a ball of light in one's hand.

And the betrayers of language ...... n and the press gang And those who had lied for hire; The perverts, the perverters of language, the perverts, who have set money-lust Before the pleasures of the senses; howling, as of a hen-yard in a printing-house, the clatter of presses, the blowing of dry dust and stray paper, foetor, sweat, the stench of stale oranges.

A great age of literature is perhaps always a great age of translations.