Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.

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

The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.

After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.

Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.

My tribute to mystical, magical trees that the Cherokee called "standing people. . . ."