The only enemy of innocence and beauty is time.

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.

Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.

How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?

In dreams begin responsibilitiy.

I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild, Even accusing heaven because It had set down among its laws: Nothing that we love over-much Is ponderable to our touch.

The world being illusive, one must be deluded in some way if one is to triumph in it.