I turn now not to the Bible but to Wallace Stevens..

I'm obviously not orthodox, I don't know how many real poets have ever been orthodox..

Verse should be as natural As the small tuber that feeds on muck And grows slowly from obtuse soil To the white flower of immortal beauty.

I have been all men known to history, Wondering at the world and at time passing; I have seen evil, and the light blessing Innocent love under a spri….

The deep spaces between stars , Fathomless as the cold shadow His mind cast..

They left no books , Memorial to their lonely thought In grey parishes: rather they wrote On men's hearts and in the minds Of young children sublime ….

The silence holds with its gloved hand the wild hawk of the mind..

A recurring ideal, I find, is that of simplicity. At times there comes the desire to write with great precision and clarity, words so simple and movi….

I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow..

Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer Said once about the long toil that goes like blood to the poems making? Leave it to nature and the verse sprawls, ….

I have known exile and a wild passion Of longing changing to a cold ache. King, beggar and fool , I have been all by turns, Knowing the body's sweetn….

We live in our own world , A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees, The adult subterfuge..

somewhere within sight of the tree of poetry that is eternity wearing the green leaves of time ..

You cannot find the centre Where we dance , where we play, Where life is still asleep Under the closed flower , Under the smooth shell Of eggs in the….

I am left alone on the surface of a turning planet..

The nearest we approach God ...is as creative beings. The poet, by echoing the primary imagination, recreates. Through his work he forces those who r….

I have nowhere to go. The swift satellites show The clock of my whole being is slow..

Poetry is that / which arrives at the intellect / by way of the heart..

Man is a dream about a shadow. But when some splendour falls upon him from God, a glory comes to him and his life is sweet..

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown. Never think to surprise them. Your face….

The meaning is in the waiting..