Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.

Just as my fingers on these keys make music, so the self-same sounds on my spirit make a music too.

A violent order is disorder; and a great disorder is an order. These two things are one.

All poetry is experimental poetry.

The point of vision and desire are the same.

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

How red the rose that is the soldier