Thinking Is Not To Agree Or Disagree.

O Hushed October Morning Mild, Begin The Hours Of This Day Slow, Make The Day Seem To Us Less Brief... Retard The Sun With Gentle Mist; Enchant The Land With Amethyst.

I Alone Of English Writers Have Consciously Set Myself To Make Music Out Of What I May Call The Sound Of Sense.

I Am One Who Has Been Acquainted With The Night

I Hold It To Be The Inalienable Right Of Anybody To Go To Hell In His Own Way.

A Poem Begins With A Lump In The Throat