There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious fastidiousness.
Only imagination that towers can reproduce evanescence and render rigidity flexible.
... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.
The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.
Excess is the common substitute for energy.
You're not free until you've been made captive by supreme belief.