Ah God! the petty fools of rhyme That shriek and sweat in pigmy wars.

I do but sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing.

In America they make too much fuss of poets; in London they make too little.

Families, like countries, take their prophets unkindly, but a verse-speaker in the house is dishonor to be hooted.

Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision that depends in its intensity on the strength of the labour put into the creation of the poetry.

A good poem is a contribution to reality The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it.

Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toenails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own.

Color, which is the poet's wealth, is so expensive that most take to mere outline sketches and become men of science.

The best poets, after all, exhibit only a tame and civil side of nature. They have not seen the west side of any mountain.

The poet is he that hath fat enough, like bears and marmots, to suck his claws all winter.