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!

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

I don't like quintessential certitude.

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

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.

Hate does not present many choices; if hate is your solution, you are fairly certain to hate all phemonena with equal joy and intensity, without troubling to drag into prominence any one feature from the loathsome whole.

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