For the more a soul conforms to the sanity of others, the more does it become insane.

There is surely no more unselfish person than the anthologist. For while all we others are striving to ensure our own immortality with eagerness, beguilements, buffooneries, loud voices, 'the sound of battle and garments rolled in blood,' the anthologist is quietly ensuring the immortality of somebody else.

No accident of environment or circumstance need cut us off from nature. ... It does not matter how shut in we are. Opportunity for wide experience is of small acccount in this as in other things; it is depth that brings understanding and life.

Green is the fresh emblem of well founded hopes. In blue the spirit can wander, but in green it can rest.

It made me gladsome to be getting some education, it being like a big window opening.

The love of nature is a passion for those in whom it once lodges. It can never be quenched. It cannot change. It is a furious, burning, physical greed, as well as a state of mystical exaltation. It will have its own.

If you know much about your work - why you work, how you work, your aims - you are probably not a poet.