Alone, alone, about the dreadful wood / Of conscious evil runs a lost mankind, / Dreading to find its Father.

The primary function of poetry, as of all the arts, is to make us more aware of ourselves and the world around us. I do not know if such increased awareness makes us more moral or more efficient. I hope not. I think it makes us more human, and I am quite certain it makes us more difficult to deceive.

I used to try and concentrate the poem so much that there wasn't a word that wasn't essential. This leads to becoming boring and constipated.

I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky.

We are not commanded (or forbidden) to love our mates, our children, our friends, our country because such affections come naturally to us and are good in themselves, although we may corrupt them. We are commanded to love our neighbor because our natural attitude toward the other is one of either indifference or hostility.

It takes little talent to see what lies under one's nose, a good deal to know in what direction to point that organ.

All the rest is silence On the other side of the wall, And the silence ripeness, And the ripeness all.