Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

Up from the bronze, I saw Water without a flaw Rush to its rest in air Reach to its rest, and fall.

... 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.

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

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

True revolutions in art restore more than they destroy.