The genuine artist is never 'true to life.' He sees what is real, but not as we are normally aware of it. We do not go storming through life like actors in a play. Art is never real life.

Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four Hills and a cloud.

Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints.

Beauty is momentary in the mind -- The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies; the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing.

I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.

One must read poetry with one's nerves.

Make the visible a little hard to see.