Love begets love. This torment is my joy.

Be sure that whatever you are is you.

In our age, if a boy or girl is untalented, the odds are in favor of their thinking they want to write.

I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.

In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.

Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.

The soul has many motions, body one.