The Trees That Have It

For Dear Me, Why Abandon A Belief Merely Because It Ceases To Be True

I Alone Of English Writers Have Consciously Set Myself To Make Music Out Of What I May Call The Sound Of Sense.

Nature's Never Quite Sure She Hasn't Erred In Her Vague Design.

Nature Does Not Complete Things. She Is Chaotic. Man Must Finish, And He Does So By Making A Garden And Building A Wall.

The Poet, As Everyone Knows, Must Strike His Individual Note Sometime Between The Ages Of Fifteen And Twenty-five. He May Hold It A Long Time, Or A Short Time, But It Is Then That He Must Strike It Or Never. School And College Have Been Conducted With The Almost Express Purpose Of Keeping Him Busy With Something Else Till The Danger Of His Ever Creating Anything Is Past.