I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep

My mind may be American but my heart is British.

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

The immature poet imitates, the mature poet plagiarizes.

When we read of human beings behaving in certain ways, with the approval of the author, who gives his benediction to this behavior by his attitude towards the result of the behavior arranged by himself, we can be influenced towards behaving in the same way.

Tradition: how the vitality of the past enriches the life of the present.