People find a way in which they can say something.

Never commit yourself to a cheese without having first examined it.

the ordinary man's experience is chaotic, irregular, fragmentary. [He] falls in love or reads Spinoza, and these two experiences have nothing to do with each other, or with the noise of the typewriter, or the smell of cooking; in the mind of the poet these experiences are always forming new wholes

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives.

It is only in the world of objects that we have time and space and selves.

My mind may be American but my heart is British.

Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair-