The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.

An intellectual hatred is the worst, So let her think opinions are accursed. Have I not seen the loveliest woman born Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Love comes in at the eye.

Mock mockers after that That would not lift a hand maybe To help good, wise or great To bar that foul storm out, for we Traffic in mockery.

The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.

The labor of the alchemists, who were called artist in their day, is a befitting comparison for a deliberate change of style.

There is another world, but it is in this one.