There Never Was A War

Poetry Is A Peerless Proficiency Of The Imagination.

Revision Is Its Own Reward.

Sun And Moon And Day And Night And Man And Beast Each With A Splendor Which Man In All His Vileness Cannot Set Aside; Each With An Excellence!

I Am Hard To Disgust, But A Pretentious Poet Can Do It

Not Till The Poets Among Us Can Be "literalists Of The Imagination"-above Insolence And Triviality And Can Present For Inspection, "imaginary Gardens With Real Toads In Them." Shall We Have It.