It is almost impossible for the poetess, once laurelled, to take off the crown for good or to reject values and taste of those who tender it.

... politics are nothing but sand and gravel: it is art and life that feed us until we die. Everything else is ambition, hysteria or hatred.

At midnight tears Run into your ears.

Innocence of heart and violence of feeling are necessary in any kind of superior achievement: The arts cannot exist without them.

The intellectual is a middle-class product; if he is not born into the class he must soon insert himself into it, in order to exist. He is the fine nervous flower of the bourgeoisie.

I'll lie here and learn How, over their ground, Trees make a long shadow And a light sound.

The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place?