The profound difference that divides the human race is a question of bait - whether to fish with worms or not.

We do not know our own souls, let alone the souls of others. Human beings do not go hand in hand the whole stretch of the way. There is a virgin forest in each; a snowfield where even the print of birds' feet is unknown. Here we go alone, and like it better so. Always to have sympathy, always to be accompanied, always to be understood would be intolerable.

Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.

We can best help you to prevent war not by repeating your words and following your methods but by finding new words and creating new methods.

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

I press to my centre, and find there is something there.

How far we are going to read a poet when we can read about a poet is a problem to lay before biographers.