Poetry is a religion without hope, but its martyrs guarantee the eternal truth of its dogma.
Wealth is an inborn attitude of mind, like poverty. The pauper who has made his pile may flaunt his spoils, but cannot wear them plausibly.
Poetry is a religion with no hope.
Look out! Be on your guard, because alone of all the arts, music moves all around you.
An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.
A man's truest self realizations might require him, above all, to learn to close his eyes: to let himself be taken unawares, to follow his dark angel, to risk his illegal instincts.