... we do not admire what we cannot understand.
There never was a war that was not inward; I must fight till I have conquered in myself what causes war.
The sweet air coming into your house on a fine day, from water etched with waves as formal as the scales on a fish.
In a poem the words should be as pleasing to the ear as the meaning is to the mind.
The mind is an enchanting thing.
In a poem the excitement has to maintain itself. I am governed by the pull of the sentence as the pull of a fabric is governed by gravity.