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

A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On terms Like these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.

If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and fears, to which the Bible addresses itself, it might rival it in distribution.

Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.

Sentimentality is a failure of feeling.

Make the visible a little hard to see.

It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.