If it is an imperfect word, no external circumstance can heighten its value as poetry.

When you defile the pleasant streams, And the wild bird's abiding place, You massacre a million dreams, And cast your spittle in God's face

For while the subjects of poetry are few and recurrent, the moods of man are infinitely various and unstable. It is the same in all arts.

Poetry being the sign of that which all men desire, even though the desire be unconscious, intensity of life or completeness of experience, the universality of its appeal is a matter of course.

Poetry is the communication through words of certain experiences that can be communicated in no other way.

To know anything of a poet but his poetry is, so far as the poetry is concerned, to know something that may be entertaining, even delightful, but is certainly inessential.

But in the finished art of the song the use of words has no connection with the use of words in poetry.

This be my pilgrimage and goal Daily to march and find The secret phrases of the soul, The evangels of the mind.

There can be no proof that Blake's lyric is composed of the best words in the best order; only a conviction, accepted by our knowledge and judgment, that it is so.

In the corridors under tehre is nothing but sleep. And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep On moon-washed apples of wonder.

When the poet makes his perfect selection of a word, he is endowing the word with life.

A person obsessed with ultimate truth is a person asking to be relieved of money.

A small step forward . . .every . . single . . .day. The sun is coming up and I am wondering, 'What wondrous thing shall I witness today?

Crazy loves company, Sir Clay.

Jessica Simpson is the youth ambassador for Operation Smile, and an episode of The Apprentice featured a team managing a charity concert she put on. Donald Trump came on stage and pledged a donation.

Break a leg up there, and I'll be down here hopefully breaking someone elses.

any writer is inevitably going to work with his own anxieties and desires. If the book is any good it has got to have in it the fire of a personal unconscious mind.

So few grown women like their lives.

Because my heat was too full of appreciation for what my friends-- my real friends-- had done for me.

Content dictates form and style.

The English are a dumb people. They can do great acts, but not describe them.