If some really acute observer made as much of egotism as Freud has made of sex, people would forget a good deal about sex and find the explanation for everything in egotism.
People ought to like poetry the way a child likes snow & they would if poets wrote it.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The poet is the priest of the invisible.
A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have.
Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.