The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all.

We see the light but see not whence it comes. O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

So far as we are human, what we do must be either evil or good: so far as we do evil or good, we are human: and it is better, in a paradoxical way, to do evil than to do nothing: at least we exist.

And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

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

When a Cat adopts you, and I am not superstitious at all I don't mean only Black cats there is nothing to be done about it except to put up with it and wait until the wind changes.