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

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph.

I can connect Nothing with nothing

If we are moved by a poem, it has meant something, perhaps something important, to us; if we are not moved, then it is, as poetry, meaningless.

The dripping blood our only drink, The bloody flesh our only food: In spite of which we like to think That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

We might remind ourselves that criticism is as inevitable as breathing, and that we should be none the worse for articulating what passes in our minds when we read a book and feel an emotion about it, for criticizing our own minds in their work of criticism.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.