No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone.
Sensibility alters from generation to generation in everybody, whether we will or no; but expression is only altered by a man of genius.
What is true, is true only for one time and only for one place.
All dash to and fro in motor cars. Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.
When comparing works of art, it is important that the art itself, and not the artists, be considered.
The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion.