Not only every great poet, but every genuine, but lesser poet, fulfils once for all some possibility of language, and so leaves one possibility less for his successors.

With a poem you can say 'I got my feeling into words for myself. I now have the equivalent in words for that much of what I have felt.'

You have to risk going too far to discover just how far you can really go.

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

Art is the escape from personality.

The journey, Not the destination matters.

Again I must remind you that a dog's a dog-a cat's a cat.