There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious fastidiousness.

Impatience is the mark of independence, not of bondage.

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.

Wolf's wool is the best of wool, / but it cannot be sheared because / the wolf will not comply.

Conscious writing can be the death of poetry.

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

One detects creative power by its capacity to conquer one's detachment.