The poem is always the last resort. In it the poet makes a world in little, and finds peace, even though, under complete focused emotion, the evocation be far more bitter than reality, or far more lovely.

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?

... how much of our inner substance is it good for us to give to public griefs? The whole modern tendency to agonize over the suffering of the entire globe is surely something new.

Because language is the carrier of ideas, it is easy to believe that it should be very little else than such a carrier.

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

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