Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in dreams?

Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.

I was myself the compass of that sea: I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw Or heard or felt came not but from myself; And there I found myself more truly and more strange.

To a large extent, the problems of poets are the problems of painters, and poets must often turn to the literature of painting for a discussion of their own problems.

It is the belief and not the god that counts.

I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.