Take a commonplace, clean it and polish it, light it so that it produces the same effect of youth and freshness and originality and spontaneity as it did originally, and you have done a poet's job. The rest is literature.

Poetry is a religion without hope, but its martyrs guarantee the eternal truth of its dogma.

The composer opens the cage door for arithmetic, the draftsman gives geometry its freedom.

At all costs the true world of childhood must prevail, must be restored; that world whose momentous, heroic, mysterious quality is fed on airy nothings, whose substance is so ill-fitted to withstand the brutal touch of adult inquisition.

My method is simple: not to bother about poetry. It must come of its own accord. Merely whispering its name drives it away.

Alas! I do not believe that inspiration falls from heaven. think it rather the result of a profound indolence.

If it has to choose who is to be crucified, the crowd will always save Barabbas.