A tradition without intelligence is not worth having.

Old men ought to be explorers.

Each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling.

We know too much, and are convinced of too little. Our literature is a substitute for religion, and so is our religion.

There is, it seems to us, At best, only a limited value In the knowledge derived from experience.

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.

Those who say they give the public what it wants begin by underestimating public taste and end by debauching it.