The young feel tired at the end of an action, the old at the beginning.

A woman drew her long black hair out tight, And fiddled whisper music on those strings, And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings, And crawled head downward down a blackened wall.

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God. . . . So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

It is generally a feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencies hidden under the 'dear deceit' of beauty.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

Those who talk of the bible as a monument of English prose are merely admiring it as a monument over the grave of Christianity.