It seems, after all that there are no nonpeculiar people.

Art attempts to find in the universe, in matter as well as in the facts of life, what is fundamental, enduring, essential.

Unexpected intrusions of beauty. This is what life is.

All human accomplishment has this same origin, identically. Imagination is a force of nature. Is this not enough to make a person full of ecstasy? Imagination, imagination, imagination! It converts to actual. It sustains, it alters, it redeems!

We are funny creatures. We don't see the stars as they are, so why do we love them? They are not small gold objects, but endless fire.

The spirit knows that its growth is the real aim of existence.

Each man has his own batch of poems.