Take Thy Beak From Out My Heart,

No Pictorial Or Sculptural Combinations Of Points Of Human Loveliness, Do More Than Approach The Living And Breathing Human Beauty As It Gladdens Our Daily Path.

It Would Be Mockery To Call Such Dreariness Heaven At All.

As An Individual, I Myself Feel Impelled To Fancy ... A Limitless Succession Of Universes.... Each Exists, Apart And Independently, In The Bosom Of Its Proper And Particular God.

If A Poem Hasn't Ripped Apart Your Soul; You Haven't Experienced Poetry.

False Hope Is Nicer Than No Hope At All.