All poetry is experimental poetry.

Key West, unfortunately, is becoming rather literary and artistic.

To name an object is to deprive a poem of three-fourths of its pleasure, which consists in a little-by-little guessing game; the ideal is to suggest.

Next to love is the desire for love.

Poetry is a response to the daily necessity of getting the world right.

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

One must have a mind of winter to regard the frost and the boughs of the pine trees, crusted with snow, And have been cold a long time, to behold the junipers, shagged with ice, the spruces, rough in the distant glitter of the January sun, and not to think of any misery in the sound of the wind, in the sound of a few leaves, which is the sound of the land, full of the same wind, blowing in the same bare place for the listener, who listens in the snow, and, nothing herself, beholds nothing that is not there, and the nothing that is.