The heads of strong old age are beautiful beyond all grace of youth..

Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts..

Oh heavy change. The world deteriorates like a rotting apple, worms and a skin..

The love of freedom has been the quality of Western man..

The cold passion for truth hunts in no pack..

Does it matter whether you hate yourself? At least love your eyes that can see, your mind that can hear the music, the thunder of the wings..

As for me, I would rather be a worm in a wild apple than a son of man. But we are what we are, and we might remember not to hate any person, for all ….

If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes: Perhaps of my planted forest a few May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the co….

When the sun shouts and people abound One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze And the iron age; iron the unstable metal; Steel ….

Corruption never has been compulsory; when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains..

Know that however ugly the parts appear the whole remains beautiful..

Happy people die whole, they are all dissolved in a moment, they have had what they wanted..

Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan..