It may well be on such a night of clouds and cruel colors that there is brought forth upon the earth such a portent as a respectable poet. You say you are a poet of law; I say you are a contradiction in terms. I only wonder there were not comets and earthquakes on the night you appeared in this garden.

The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.

Poets do not go mad, but chess players do.

Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. I am not, as will be seen, in any sense attacking logic: I only say that this danger does lie in logic, not in imagination.

What a glorious garden of wonders the lights of Broadway would be to anyone lucky enough to be unable to read.