I, too, dislike it. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it, after all, a place for the genuine.

Poetry is a peerless proficiency of the imagination.

O to be a dragon, a symbol of the power of Heaven-of silk-worm size or immense; at times invisible. Felicitous phenomenon!

If you will tell me why the fen appears impassable, I then will tell you why I think that I can cross it if I try.

Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.

They fought the enemy, we fight fat living and self-pity. Shine, o shine, unfalsifying sun, on this sick scene.

The power of the visible is the invisible.