A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.

The parlour cars and Pullmans are packed also with scented assassins, salad-eaters who murder on milk.

We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons.

Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.

I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return.

A craftsman knows in advance what the finished result will be, while the artist knows only what it will be when he has finished it.

The element of craftsmanship in poetry is obscured by the fact that all men are taught to speak and most to read and write, while very few men are taught to draw or paint or write music.