“Kaisers and Czars will strut the stage Once more with pomp and greed and rage; Courtly ministers will stop At home and fight to the last drop; By the million men will die In some new horrible agony.”

You mean that people who continue virtuous in an old-fashioned way must inevitably suffer in times like these?

There is one story and one story only.

Well, we’ve been lucky devils both And there is no need for a pledge or oath To bind our lovely friendship fast, By firmer stuff Close bound enough.

A well-chosen anthology is a complete dispensary of medicine for the more common mental disorders, and may be used as much for prevention as cure.

There is no such thing as good writing, only good rewriting.

We forget cruelty and past betrayal, Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall.

Since the age of 15 poetry has been my ruling passion and I have never intentionally undertaken any task or formed any relationship that seemed inconsistent with poetic principles; which has sometimes won me the reputation of an eccentric.

Let all the poison that lurks in the mud, hatch out.

Every fairy child may keep Two strong ponies and ten sheep; All have houses, each his own, Built of brick or granite stone; They live on cherries, they run wild I’d love to be a Fairy’s child.

This seems to me a philosophical question, and therefore irrelevant, question. A poet’s destiny is to love.

For I now realize that what overcame me that evening was a sudden awareness of the power of intuition, the supra-logic that cuts out all routine processes of thought and leaps straight from problem to answer.

Truth-loving Persians do not dwell upon The trivial skirmish fought near Marathon.

One gets to the heart of the matter by a series of experiences in the same pattern, but in different colors.

Love is a universal migraine. A bright stain on the vision, Blotting out reason.

Never use the word ‘audience.’ The very idea of a public, unless the poet is writing for money, seems wrong to me. Poets don’t have an ‘audience’. They’re talking to a single person all the time.

I was last in Rome in AD 540 when it was full of Goths and their heavy horses. It has changed a great deal since then.