We live in an old chaos of the sun.

I still feel the need of some imperishable bliss.

Union of the weakest develops strength not wisdom. Can all men, together, avenge one of the leaves that have fallen in autumn? But the wise man avenges by building his city in snow.

At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.

Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.

It must be this rhapsody or none, The rhapsody of things as they are.

It gives a man character as a poet to have a daily contact with a job. I doubt whether I've lost a thing by leading an exceedingly regular and disciplined life.