Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.

Humour is the most engaging cowardice. With it myself I have been able to hold some of my enemy in play far out of gunshot.

Butterflies...flowers that fly and all but sing.

There are few sorrows, however poignant, in which a good income is of no avail.

A true sonnet goes eight lines and then takes a turn for better or worse and goes six or eight lines more.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.

The difference between a man and his valet: they both smoke the same cigars, but only one pays for them.