The prey of fear, he, always curtailed, extinguished, thwarted by the dusk, work partly done, says to the alternating blaze, "Again the sun! anew each day; and new and new and new, that comes into and steadies my soul."

... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.

Among animals, one has a sense of humor. Humor saves a few steps, it saves years.

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

The power of the visible is the invisible.

To wear the arctic fox you have to kill it.

Honesty - however dangerous - should be as valuable as radium it seems to me.