Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.
Men dislike being awakened from their death in life.
We had the experience, but we missed the meaning.
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.
Good poets borrow, great poets steal
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.