I want the concentration and the romance, and the worlds all glued together, fused, glowing: have no time to waste any more on prose.

By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. 'Tis the waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.

Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order.

if newspapers were written by people whose sole object in writing was to tell the truth about politics and the truth about art we should not believe in war, and we should believe in art.

It is from the middle class that writers spring, because, it is in the middle class only that the practice of writing is as natural and habitual as hoeing a field or building a house.

Who shall measure the hat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?

Indeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.