If There Are Any Souls In Hell,

Though One Cannot Always Remember Exactly Why One Has Been Happy, There Is No Forgetting That One Was.

By Mourning Tongues The Death Of The Poet Was Kept From His Poems.

Precisely Because We Do Not Communicate By Singing, A Song Can Be Out Of Place But Not Out Of Character; It Is Just As Credible That A Stupid Person Should Sing Beautifully As That A Clever Person Should Do So.

A Poet Is A Professional Maker Of Verbal Objects.

A Daydream Is A Meal At Which Images Are Eaten. Some Of Us Are Gourmets, Some Gourmands, And A Good Many Take Their Images Precooked Out Of A Can And Swallow Them Down Whole, Absent-mindedly And With Little Relish.