The things we now esteem fixed shall, one by one, detach themselves, like ripe fruit, from our experience, and fall. The wind shall blow them none knows whither.

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem, - a thought so passionate and alive that like the spirit of a plant or an animal it has an architecture of its own, and adorns nature with a new thing.

Live, let live, and help live

We are symbols, and inhabit symbols.

Everything has its price - and if that price is not paid, not that thing but something else is obtained... it is impossible to get anything without this price.

Performing on a stool, we've got a sight to make you drool, seven virgins and a mule, keep it cool, keep it cool.

The virtue of art lies in detachment, in sequestering one object from the embarrassing variety. Until one thing comes out from theconnection of things, there can be enjoyment, contemplation, but no thought.