There Is The View That Poetry Should

The Term Ignorant Is Indeed Perhaps An Overstatement, Implying As It Does That Something Is Known Somewhere, Whereas In Reality We Are Not Even Sure Of This: We In Fact Cannot Aver With Any Degree Of Certainty That We Are Ignorant. Yet This Is Not So Bad; We Have At Any Rate Kept Our Open-mindedness -- That, At Least, We May Be Sure That We Have -- And Are Not In Any Danger, Or So It Seems, Of Freezing Into The Pious Attitudes Of Those True Spiritual Bigots Whose Faces Are Turned Toward Eternity And Who Therefore Can See Nothing.

Once You've Lived In France, You Don't Want To Live Anywhere Else, Including France.

Not Until It Starts To Stink Does The Inevitable Happen.

Then Let Yourself Love All That You Take Delight In Accept Yourself Whole, Accept The Heritage That Shaped You And Is Passed On From Age To Age Down To Your Entity. Remain Mysterious; Rather Than Be Pure, Accept Yourself As Numerous.

How Many People Came And Stayed A Certain Time, Uttered Light Or Dark Speech That Became Part Of You Like Light Behind Windblown Fog And Sand Filtered And Influenced By It, Until No Part Remains That Is Surely You.