in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.

Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.

The mind can never be satisfied.

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

Make the visible a little hard to see.

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

Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.