Immature Poets Imitate; Mature Poets

I Was Too Slow A Mover To Be A Boxer. It Was Much Easier To Be A Poet.

There Is No Feeling, Except The Extremes Of Fear And Grief, That Does Not Find Relief In Music.

I Confess . . . That I Am Not Myself Very Much Concerned With The Question Of Influence, Or With Those Publicists Who Have Impressed Their Names Upon The Public By Catching The Morning Tide And Rowing Very Vast In The Direction In Which The Current Was Flowing; But Rather That There Should Always Be A Few Writers Preoccupied In Penetrating To The Core Of The Matter, In Trying To Arrive At The Truth And To Set It Forth, Without Too Much Hope, Without Ambition To Alter The Immediate Course Of Affairs, And Without Being Downcast Or Defeated When Nothing Appears To Ensue.

Human Kind Cannot Bear Much Reality.

Only Through Time Time Is Conquered