We learn what poetry is - if we ever learn - by reading it.

Not only every great poet, but every genuine, but lesser poet, fulfils once for all some possibility of language, and so leaves one possibility less for his successors.

Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.

We fight for lost causes because we know that our defeat and dismay may be the preface to our successors' victory, though that victory itself will be temporary; we fight rather to keep something alive than in the expectation that anything will triumph.

The definition of hell is a place where nothing connects with nothing.

Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech

Survival is your strength not your shame.