Not knowing the name of the tree,I stood in the floodof its sweet scent.
“This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.”
“Summer grasses,All that remainsOf soldiers' dreams”
“Winter solitude-in a world of one colourthe sound of the wind.”
“Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.”
“When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swords...”
“On this roadwhere nobody else travelsautumn nightfall.”
“Today I want to belong. I want to feel safe and at home. I want to be aware of what it is like simply to be, without defenses or desires. I will appreciate the flow of life for what it is-my own tr...”
“Nature reflects the moods of the wizard.”
“My calling ties me to no office, makes me no man's slave, compels me to no action which my soul condemns. It sets me free from town life, which I loathe; and allows me to breathe clean air, to exer...”
“Im not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. Ive seen a chunk of the universe, true, but theres still so much more to see. I doubt Ill ever cure t...”
“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,My gentle guide, in following thee.”
“Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmonious...”
