Poets are sultans, if they had their will: For every author would his brother kill.

Poets alone are sure of immortality; they are the truest diviners of nature.

There is no single thing... that is so cut and dried that one cannot attend to its secret whisper which says 'I am more than just my appearance'. If each object quivers with readiness to imply something other than itself, if each perception is a word in a poem dense with connotations, then the poet's selection of any given subject of speculation will become... a means of attuning himself to the rhythms and harmonies of reality at large. ... The notion of a network of correspondence is not an outmoded Romantic illusion: it represents a crucial intuition...

Little, vicious minds abound with anger and revenge, and are incapable of feeling the pleasure of forgiving their enemies.

What you keep by you, you may change and mend but words, once spoken, can never be recalled.

Due attention to the inside of books, and due contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of sense and his books.