I used to think a bird couldn't fly if its wings got wet.

Music is the can-opener of the soul.

Until we accept the fact that life itself is founded in mystery, we shall learn nothing.

Instead of asking 'How much damage will the work in question bring about?' why not ask 'How much good? How much joy?'

The poem is the dream made flesh, in a two-fold sense: as work of art, and as life, which is a work of art.

Until it is kindled by a spirit as flamingly alive as the one which gave it birth a book is dead to us. Words divested of their magic are but dead hieroglyphs.

I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.