What Makes Poetry? A Full Heart, Brimful

Unrest And Uncertainty Are Our Lot.

We Are Accustomed To See Men Deride What They Do Not Understand, And Snarl At The Good And Beautiful Because It Lies Beyond Their Sympathies

People Do Not Mind Their Faults Being Spread Out Before Them, But They Become Impatient If Called On To Give Them Up.

One Must Keep Repeating The Truth.

True Art Can Only Spring From The Intimate Linking Of The Serious And The Playful.