To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.

Nothing could be more inappropriate to American literature than its English source since the Americans are not British in sensibility.

The consolations of space are nameless things. It was after the neurosis of winter. It was In the genius of summer that they blew up The statue of Jove among the boomy clouds. It took all day to quieten the sky And then to refill its emptiness again.

It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.

The purpose of poetry is to make life complete in itself.

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

Imagination applied to the whole world is vapid in comparison to imagination applied to a detail.