Faith, to my mind, is a stiffening process, a sort of mental starch.

I have no mystic faith in the people. I have in the individual.

The sort of poetry I seek resides in objects man can't touch.

It is the vice of a vulgar mind to be thrilled by bigness.

Some closing of the gates is inevitable after thirty, if the mind itself is to become a creative power.

Surely the only sound foundation for a civilization is a sound state of mind.