The Whole Shadow Of Man Is Only

Why Shouldn't We, So Generally Addicted To The Gigantic, At Last Have Some Small Works Of Art, Some Short Poems, Short Pieces Of Music [...], Some Intimate, Low-voiced, And Delicate Things In Our Mostly Huge And Roaring, Glaring World?

If After I Read A Poem The World Looks Like That Poem For 24 Hours Or So I'm Sure It's A Good One—and The Same Goes For Paintings.

What The Man-moth Fears Most He Must Do.

It Is Like What We Imagine Knowledge To Be: Dark, Salt, Clear, Moving, Utterly Free.

Lose Something Every Day. Accept The Fluster Of Lost Door Keys, The Hour Badly Spent. The Art Of Losing Isn't Hard To Master.