The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.
The essential fault of surrealism is that it invents without discovering. To make a clam play an accordion is to invent not to discover. The observation of the unconscious, so far as it can be observed, should reveal things of which we have previously been unconscious, not the familiar things of which we have been conscious plus imagination.
There may be always a time of innocence. There is never a place.
Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy wades through water, feeling with his toes for the bottom: The echoes are the bottom.
The greatest poverty is not to live In a physical world, to feel that one's desire Is too difficult to tell from despair.
If ever the search for a tranquil belief should end, The future might stop emerging out of the past, Out of what is full of us; yet the search And the future emerging out of us seem to be one.
We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.
Imagination is the will of things. . . .
The sea Severs not only lands but also selves.
The poet represents the mind in the act of defending us against itself.
Death is the mother of Beauty; hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
It gives a man character as a poet to have a daily contact with a job. I doubt whether I've lost a thing by leading an exceedingly regular and disciplined life.
Make the visible a little hard to see.
Poetry is an abstraction bloodied.
Disillusion is the last illusion.
To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.
Poetry is the scholar's art.
The imagination is the liberty of the mind It is intrpeid and eager and the extreme of its achievement lies in abstraction.
If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and fears, to which the Bible addresses itself, it might rival it in distribution.
The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
It is the mind that is woven, the mind that was jerked And tufted in straggling thunder and shattered sun.
I have said no To everything, in order to get at myself. I have wiped away moonlight like mud.
in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.
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