History marched to the drums of a clear idea...

You must go to bed with friends or whores, where money makes up the difference in beauty or desire.

And make us as Newton was, who in his garden watching The apple falling towards England, became aware Between himself and her of an eternal tie.

In the eyes of others a man is a poet if he has written one good poem. In his own he is only a poet at the moment when he is making his last revision to a new poem. The moment before, he was still only a potential poet; the moment after, he is a man who has ceased to write poetry, perhaps forever.

Our sufferings and weaknesses, in so far as they are personal, are of no literary interest whatsoever. They are only interesting in so far as we can see them as typical of the human condition.

The basic stimulus to the intelligence is doubt, a feeling that the meaning of an experience is not self-evident.

Like love we don't know where or why Like love we cant compel or fly Like Love we often weep Like Love we seldom keep