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

I was the world in which I walked.

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.

Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man. It is not a dress.

The belief in poetry is a magnificent fury, or it is nothing.

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

Thought tends to collect in pools.