Rhythm Is Form Cut Into Time.

What Matters Is Not The Idea A Man Holds, But The Depth At Which He Holds It.

It Is More Than Likely That The Brain Itself Is, In Origin And Development, Only A Sort Of Great Clot Of Genital Fluid Held In Suspense Or Reserved. This Hypothesis Would Explain The Enormous Content Of The Brain As A Maker Or Presenter Of Images.

Here Is Our Poetry, For We Have Pulled Down The Stars To Our Will.

The Secret Of Popular Writing Is Never To Put More On A Given Page Than The Common Reader Can Lap Off It With No Strain Whatsoever On His Habitually Slack Attention.

Poetry Is About As Much A 'criticism Of Life' As Red-hot Iron Is A Criticism Of Fire.