It is almost impossible to state what one in fact believes, because it is almost impossible to hold a belief and to define it at the same time.

Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels.

It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.

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

Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.

Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge

THESE are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night.