To refine, to clarify, to intensify that eternal moment in which we alone live there is but a single force the imagination.

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

The business of love is cruelty which, by our wills, we transform to live together.

The Moon, the dried weeds and the Pleiades - Seven feet tall the dark, dried weed stalks make a part of the night a red lace on the milky blue sky

Say it, no ideas but in things - nothing but the blank faces of the houses and cylindrical trees bent, forked by preconception and accident - split, furrowed, creased, mottled, stained - secret - into the body of the light!

The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses.