How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture.

I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.

It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.

We have been a little insane about the truth. We have had an obsession.

in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.