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

Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.

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

It is the sea that whitens the roof. The sea drifts through the winter air. It is the sea that the north wind makes. The sea is in the falling snow.

The imagination is man's power over nature.

A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have.

The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.