Poetry, that is to say the poetic, is a primal necessity.

The mind is an enchanting thing is an enchanted thing, like the glaze on a katydid-wing subdivided by sun till the nettings are legion.

There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious fastidiousness.

Hindered characters / seldom have mothers / in Irish stories, but they all have grandmothers.

One writes because one has a burning desire to objectify what it is indispensable to one's happiness to express.

In a poem the words should be as pleasing to the ear as the meaning is to the mind.

The heart that gives, gathers.