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.

For the listener, who listens in the snow, / And, nothing himself, beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there together is enough.

How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture.

As life grows more terrible, its literature grows more terrible.

The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.

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