Words are for those with promises to keep.

Cathedrals, luxury liners laden with souls, Holding to the east their hulls of stone.

Each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom.

An unmanly sort of man whose love life seems to have been largely confined to crying in laps and playing mouse.

Organic growth is a cyclical process; it is just as true to say that the oak is a potential acorn as it is to say the acorn is a potential oak. But the process of writing a poem, of making any art object, is not cyclical but a motion in one direction toward a definite end.

When someone between twenty and forty says, apropos of a work of art, 'I know what I like,' he is really saying 'I have no taste of my own but accept the taste of my cultural milieu.

Human language is mythological and metaphorical by nature.