It seems just possible that a poem might happen to a very young man: but a poem is not poetry -That is a life.

They don't understand what it is to be awake, / To be living on several planes at once / Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.

Justice itself tends to be corrupted by political passion.

The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is Incarnation.

Our difficulties of the moment must always be dealt with somehow, but our permanent difficulties are difficulties of every moment.

Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them. There is no third.

Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman -But who is that on the other side of you?