Fear is a noose that binds until it strangles.
It takes a well-spent lifetime, and perhaps more, to crystalize in us that for which we exist.
In a sick world, it is the first duty of the artist to get well.
Whatever I believed, I did; I did with my whole heart and mind as far as possible to do so.
I am not less poet; I am more conscious of all that I am, am not, and might become.
We do not posses imagination enough to sense what we are missing.