The Naming Of Cats Is A Difficult

Immature Poets Imitate; Mature Poets Steal.

Turning Wearily, As One Would Turn To Nod Goodbye To Rochefoucauld, If The Street Were Time And He As The End Of The Street.

In The Last Few Years Everything I'd Done Up To Sixty Or So Has Seemed Very Childish.

Yeats Was The Greatest Poet Of Our Times . . . Certainly The Greatest In This Language, And So Far As I Am Able To Judge, In Any Language.

Winter Kept Us Warm, Covering Earth In Forgetful Snow