The mind can never be satisfied.
Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four Hills and a cloud.
We live in an old chaos of the sun.
The mind is smaller than the eye.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
Poetry has to be something more than a conception of the mind. It has to be a revelation of nature. Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.