Poetry demands a different material than prose. It uses another facet of the same fact... the spontaneous conformation of language as it is heard.

Time is a storm in which we are all lost.

The poem springs from the half spoken words of the patient.... When asked, how I have for so many years continued an equal interest in medicine and the poem, I reply that they amount for me to nearly the same thing.

You lethargic, waiting upon me, waiting for the fire and I attendant upon you, shaken by your beauty Shaken by your beauty Shaken.

It is not what you say that matters but the manner in which you say it; there lies the secret of the ages.

Remorse is a virtue in that it is a stirrer up of the emotions but it is a folly to accept it is a criticism of conduct.

A poem is a small machine made of words. . .Its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.