There never was a war that was not inward; I must fight till I have conquered in myself what causes war.
... we do not admire what we cannot understand.
Not till the poets among us can be "literalists of the imagination"-above insolence and triviality and can present for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them." shall we have it.
The weak overcomes its/ menace, the strong over-/comes itself.
Revision is its own reward.
Writing is an undertaking for the modest.