Weightless in water, swift as the wind, Subtle of purpose - a feather blown - I go with my oarsmen where they will, My beautiful body and theirs all one.

The job of the poet is to render the world-to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No poet ever talks about feelings. Only sentimental people do.

To be what no one ever was, to be what everyone has been: Freedom is the mean of those extremes that fence all effort in.

I have always had the greatest respect for students. There is nothing I hate more than condescension—the attitude that they are inferior to you. I always assume they have good minds.

A classic is a book that remains in print

Bring ideas in and entertain them royally, for one of them may be the king.

Wit is the only wall between us and the dark.