It is not possible, for a poet, writing in any language, to protect himself from the tragic elements in human life.... [ellipsis in source] Illness, old age, and death--subjects as ancient as humanity--these are the subjects that the poet must speak of very nearly from the first moment that he begins to speak.

The measured blood beats out the year's delay.

I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.

Poetry is often generations in advance of the thought of its time.

O remember In your narrowing dark hours That more things move Than blood in the heart.

Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!