Scholars and artists thrown together are often annoyed at the puzzle of where they differ. Both work from knowledge; but I suspectthey differ most importantly in the way their knowledge is come by. Scholars get theirs with conscientious thoroughness along projected lines of logic; poets theirs cavalierly and as it happens in and out of books. They stick to nothing deliberately, but let what will stick to them like burrs where they walk in the fields.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be.

Earth's the right place for love. I don't know where it's likely to go better.

A turning point in modern history.

How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?

Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.