A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.

The consolations of space are nameless things. It was after the neurosis of winter. It was In the genius of summer that they blew up The statue of Jove among the boomy clouds. It took all day to quieten the sky And then to refill its emptiness again.

It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem.

Poetry is the scholar's art.

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

So, too, if, to our surprise, we should meet one of these morons whose remarks are so conspicuous a part of the folklore of the world of the radio--remarks made without using either the tongue or the brain, spouted much like the spoutings of small whales--we should recognize him as below the level of nature but not as below the level of the imagination.

Poetry is a satifying of the desire for resemblance.