I say to you: Make perfect your will. / I say: take no thought of the harvest, / But only of proper sowing.

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.

For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

We ask only to be reassured About the noises in the cellar And the window that should not have been open

In a mind charged with an eager purpose and an unfinished vindictiveness, there is no room for new feelings.

All dash to and fro in motor cars. Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.

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