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

Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

Sensibility alters from generation to generation in everybody, whether we will or no; but expression is only altered by a man of genius.

The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion.

Good poets borrow, great poets steal

…Forgive us, O Lord, we acknowledge ourselves as type of the common man, Of the men and women who shut the door and sit by the fire; Who fear the blessing of God, the loneliness of the night of God, the surrender required, the deprivation inflicted; Who fear the injustice of men less than the justice of God; Who fear the hand at the window, the fire in the thatch, the fist in the tavern, the push into the canal, Less than we fear the love of God.

Our emotions Are only “incidents” In the effort to keep day and night together.