Imagination is the will of things. . . .

They said, 'You have a blue guitar, / You do not play things as they are.' / The man replied, 'Things as they are / Are changed upon the blue guitar.'

Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.

It's not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out of the window.

Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair. And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice

The fire burns as the novel taught it how.