I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

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

Signs are taken for wonders. / 'We would see a sign!' / The word within a word, unable to speak a word, / Swaddled with darkness.

The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way- The Church can sleep and feed at once.

Yeats was the greatest poet of our times . . . certainly the greatest in this language, and so far as I am able to judge, in any language.

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

Death has a hundred hands and walks by a thousand ways.