God is in me or else is not at all.
Anything is beautiful if you say it is.
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in short, is to help people to live their lives.
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
The exceeding brightness of this early sun Makes me conceive how dark I have become.