The Civil War is not ended: I question whether any serious civil war ever does end.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

History may be servitude. History may be freedom. See, now they vanish. The faces and places, with the self which, as it could, loved them, to become renewed, transfigured, in another pattern.

That was my way of putting it-not very satisfactory: A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion, Leaving one still with the intolerable wrestle With words and meanings.

Only through time time is conquered

Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly.

Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?