Such Is The Role Of Poetry. It

Every Poem Is A Coat Of Arms. It Must Be Deciphered. How Much Blood, How Many Tears In Exchange For These Axes, These Muzzles, These Unicorns, These Torches, These Towers, These Martlets, These Seedlings Of Stars And These Fields Of Blue!

Art Is A Marriage Of The Conscious And The Unconscious.

You Are Always Concentrated On The Inner Thing. The Moment One Becomes Aware Of The Crowd, Performs For The Crowd, It Is Spectacle.

The Poet Never Asks For Admiration; He Wants To Be Believed.

The Actual Tragedies Of Life Bear No Relation To One's Preconceived Ideas. In The Event, One Is Always Bewildered By Their Simplicity, Their Grandeur Of Design, And By That Element Of The Bizarre Which Seems Inherent In Them.