“Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.”

Art still has truth. Take refuge there.

Genius is mainly an affair of energy.

Style … is a peculiar recasting and heightening, under a certain condition of spiritual excitement, of what a man has to say, in such a manner as to add dignity and distinction to it.

To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.

For poetry the idea is everything; the rest is a world of illusion, of divine illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion to the idea; the idea is the fact. The strongest part of our religion today is its unconscious poetry.

A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Time.

Now the great winds shoreward blow Now the salt tides seaward flow Now the wild white horses play Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Ah! two desires toss about The poet’s feverish blood; One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.

How many minds–almost all the great ones–were formed in secrecy and solitude!

Weep bitterly over the dead, for he is worthy, and then comfort thyself; drive heaviness away: thou shall not do him good, but hurt thyself.

All the live murmur of a summer’s day.

And see all sights from pole to pole, And glance, and nod, and hustle by; And never once possess our soul Before we die.

Be neither saint nor sophist-led, but be a man.

Culture looks beyond machinery, culture hates hatred; culture has one great passion, the passion for sweetness and light.

It is a very great thing to be able to think as you like; but, after all, an important question remains: what you think.

Culture is properly described as the love of perfection; it is a study of perfection.

That old bald cheater, Time.

Eunuchs do not take the gout, nor become bald.

What am I supposed to do if I go bald? Get a wig? Fat, goofy, gay, wig.

I was an only child. I lost both my parents. By the time I was twenty I was bald. I’m homosexual.

Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.

Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are bald. Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are carrotty. Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are one-eyed. He who kisses you, Philaenis, sins against nature.

I know I been bald but I just wanted to remind y’all I’m still that bitch.

I dragged my pain into the darkness, I carried it into the light – No matter where I choose to take it, This pain refuses to subside. I washed my sins off in the ocean, I prayed all my badness away, Whichever God I choose to worship, I cannot make my soul be saved.