The poet is the priest of the invisible.

Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.

Everything possessed the power to transform itself, or else, and what meant more, to be transformed.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man. It is not a dress.

The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.

Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.