All of our ideas come from the natural world: trees equal umbrellas.
What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
Life is not free from its forms.
One's ignorance is one's chief asset.
To a large extent, the problems of poets are the problems of painters, and poets must often turn to the literature of painting for a discussion of their own problems.