I Made No More Protests. What Was

A Perfect Poem Is Impossible. Once It Had Been Written, The World Would End. Immature Poets Imitate; Mature Poets Steal.

What We Now Call "finance" Is, I Hold, An Intellectual Perversion Of What Began As Warm Human Love.

But Give Thanks, At Least, That You Still Have Frost's Poems; And When You Feel The Need Of Solitude, Retreat To The Companionship Of Moon, Water, Hills And Trees. Retreat, He Reminds Us, Should Not Be Confused With Escape. And Take These Poems Along For Good Luck!

Though Philosophers Like To Define Poetry As Irrational Fancy, For Us It Is Practical, Humorous, Reasonable Way Of Being Ourselves.

The Difference Between Prose Logic And Poetic Thought Is Simple. The Logician Uses Words As A Builder Uses Bricks, For The Unemotional Deadness Of His Academic Prose; And Is Always Coining Newer, Deader Words With A Natural Preference For Greek Formations. The Poet Avoids The Entire Vocabulary Of Logic Unless For Satiric Purposes, And Treats Words As Living Creatures With A Preference For Those With Long Emotional Histories Dating From Mediaeval Times. Poetry At Its Purest Is, Indeed, A Defiance Of Logic.