Any genuine philosophy leads to action and from action back again to wonder, to the enduring fact of mystery.

If the poet can no longer speak for society, but only for himself, then we are at the last ditch.

And what is the potential man, after all? Is he not the sum of all that is human? Divine, in other words?

My understanding of the meaning of a book is that the book itself disappears from sight, that it is chewed alive, digested and incorporated into the system as flesh and blood which in turn creates new spirit and reshapes the world.

Every man is working out his destiny in his own way and nobody can be of any help except by being kind, generous, and patient.

Life is constantly providing us with new funds, new resources, even when we are reduced to immobility. In life's ledger there is no such thing as frozen assets.

It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.