The destination cannot be described; / You will know very little until you get there; / You will journey blind.

Whatever you do, don't whimper, but take the consequences.

It seems just possible that a poem might happen to a very young man: but a poem is not poetry -That is a life.

It is obvious that we can no more explain a passion to a person who has never experienced it than we can explain light to the blind.

Art is the escape from personality.

Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign?

And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair.