The Primary Pigment Of Poetry

It Would Be About As Easy For An American To Become A Chinaman Or A Hindoo As For Him To Acquire An Englishness Or A Frenchness Or A European-ness That Is More Than Half Skin Deep.

Sumer Is Icumen In, Lhude Sing Cucc. Groweth Sed, And Bloweth Med, And Springth The Wude Nu, Sing Cuccu!

I Found After Seventy Years That I Was Not A Lunatic But A Moron.... I Should Have Been Able To Do Better.

And The Good Writer Chooses His Words For Their 'meaning', But That Meaning Is Not A A Set, Cut-off Thing Like The Move Of Knight Or Pawn On A Chess-board. It Comes Up With Roots, With Associations, With How And Where The Word Is Familiarly Used, Or Where It Has Been Used Brilliantly Or Memorably.

Humanity Is The Rich Effluvium, It Is The Waste And The Manure And The Soil, And From It Grows The Tree Of The Arts.