I am one of you and being one of you is being and knowing what I am and know. Yet I am the necessary Angel of earth, since, in my sight, you see the earth again.

The exceeding brightness of this early sun Makes me conceive how dark I have become.

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.

One's ignorance is one's chief asset.

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.

Poetry increases the feeling for reality.

How has the human spirit ever survived the terrific literature with which it has had to contend?