I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.

Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty of the stars.

I found more joy in sorrow than you could find in joy.

The grass is waking in the ground, / Soon it will rise and blow in waves - / How can it have the heart to sway / Over the graves, / New graves?

My theory is that poems are written because of a state of emotional irritation. It may be present for some time before the poet is conscious of what is tormenting him. The emotional irritation springs, probably, from subconscious combinations of partly forgotten thoughts and feelings. Coming together, like electrical currents in a thunder storm, they produce a poem. ... the poem is written to free the poet from an emotional burden.