If a poet has a dream, it is not of becoming famous, but of being believed.
One sits down first; one thinks afterwards.
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.
The poet doesn't invent. He listens.
Tact in audacity is knowing how far you can go without going too far.
Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.