A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there is no light. |
A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have. |
A poet looks at the world as a man looks at a woman |
Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking. |
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs. |
All history is modern history |
All the great things have been denied and we live in an intricacy of new and local mythologies, political, economic, poetic, which are asserted with an ever-enlarging incoherence. |
As life grows more terrible, its literature grows more terrible. |
Beauty is momentary in the mind / The fitful tracing of a portal; / But in the flesh it is immortal. / The body dies; the body's beauty lives. |
Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints. |
Death is the mother of Beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams And our desires |
Democritus plucked his eye out because he could not look at a woman without thinking of her as a woman. If he had read a few of our novels, he would have torn himself to pieces. |
Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore. |
How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture. |
How has the human spirit ever survived the terrific literature with which it has had to contend? |