What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.

Life is the elimination of what is dead.

The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.

It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place, It has to face the man of the time.

We have been a little insane about the truth. We have had an obsession.

I can't make head or tail of Life. Love is a fine thing, Art is a fine thing, Nature is a fine thing; but the average human mind and spirit are confusing beyond measure. Sometimes I think that all our learning is the little learning of the maxim. To laugh at a Roman awe-stricken in a sacred grove is to laugh at something today.

A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have.