The Philosophy Of Waiting Is Sustained By

Truth Is Always Present; It Only Needs To Lift The Iron Lids Of The Mind's Eye To Read Its Oracles.

Flowers... Are A Proud Assertion That A Ray Of Beauty Outvalues All The Utilities Of The World.

The Poet Knows That He Speaks Adequately, Then, Only When He Speaks Somewhat Wildly.

Daughter Of Heaven And Earth, Coy Spring, With Sudden Passion Languishing, Teaching Barren Moors To Smile, Painting Pictures Mile On Mile, Holds A Cup Of Cowslip Wreaths Whence A Smokeless Incense Breathes.

Poetry Must Be As New As Foam And As Old As The Rock.