“Poetry is prose bewitched, a music made of visual thoughts, the sound of an idea.”

“She is yet like a diamond on a heap of broken glass.”

“Some say that happy women are immaterial.”

“We might have coupledIn the bed-ridden monopoly of a momentOr broken flesh with one anotherAt the profane communion tableWhere wine is spill'd on promiscuous lipsWe might have given birth to a butt...”

“The past has come apart events are vagueingthe future is inexploitable”

“LOVE of others is the appreciation of one's self. MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.”

“[T]hen all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.”

“No, not conquer, that is too foolish a world. Any man who scales a mountain is still but a man, a transient speck compared to the immensity and permanence of a mountain .”

“My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friendsIt gives a lovely light!”

“Everyone and everything needed to be raised to its highest level the teacher must become a mage, the husband a knight errant, the labor a hero in a sacred drama intensified, rarefied, baptized in...”

“What am I to y”

“Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?”

“Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!”

“Don't be afraid of poetry.”