The award of a pure gold medal for poetry would flatter the recipient unduly: no poem ever attains such carat purity.

Prose books are the show dogs I breed and sell to support my cat.

Truth-loving Persians do not dwell upon The trivial skirmish fought near Marathon.

She tells her love while half asleep, In the dark hours, With half-words whispered low: As Earth stirs in her winter sleep And puts out grass and flowers Despite the snow, Despite the falling snow.

I have done many impious things--no great ruler can do otherwise. I have put the good of the Empire before all human considerations. To keep the Empire free from factions I have had to commit many crimes.

One gets to the heart of the matter by a series of experiences in the same pattern, but in different colors.

To be a poet is a condition rather than a profession.