Like a child who has wandered into a forest Playing with an imaginary playmate And suddenly discovers he is only a child Lost in a forest, wanting to go home.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality.
Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Do not let me hear Of the wisdom of old men, but rather of their folly,(…) The only wisdom we can hope to acquire Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.