Imagination is the will of things. . . .

Poetry is poetry, and one's objective as a poet is to achieve poetry precisely as one's objective in music is to achieve music.

You like it under the trees in autumn, because everything is half dead. The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves and repeats words without menaing.

I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.

Imagination applied to the whole world is vapid in comparison to imagination applied to a detail.

God is gracious to some very peculiar people.

We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.