Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.

One must read poetry with one's nerves.

Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation.

Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.

It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place, It has to face the man of the time.

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

Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.