The poet's mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.

Any poet, if he is to survive beyond his 25th year, must alter; he must seek new literary influences; he will have different emotions to express.

The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.

There's no vocabulary For love within a family, love that's lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.

Someone said, 'The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.' Precisely, and they are that which we know.

If you start with a bang, you won't end with a whimper.

There is no such thing as a lost cause, because there is no such thing as a gained cause