Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.
Every blunder behind us is giving a cheer for us, and only for those who were willing to fail are the dangers and splendors of life.
Ordering a man to write a poem is like commanding a pregnant woman to give birth to a red-headed child.
My room for books and study or for sitting and thinking about nothing in particular to see what would happen was at the end of a hall.
I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.
Shame is the feeling you have when you agree with the woman who loves you that you are the man she thinks you are.
Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.
We read Robert Browning’s poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.
I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn’t learned a thing I didn’t know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.
There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud.
I make it clear why I write as I do and why other poets write as they do. After hundreds of experiments I decided to go my own way in style and see what would happen.
I took to wearing a black tie known as the Ascot, with long drooping ends. I had seen pictures of painters, sculptors, poets, wearing this style of tie.
Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don’t worry about my destiny.
I can remember only a few of the strange and curious words now dead but living and spoken by the English people a thousand years ago.
I stayed away from mathematics not so much because I knew it would be hard work as because of the amount of time I knew it would take, hours spent in a field where I was not a natural.
I have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
I wrote poems in my corner of the Brooks Street station. I sent them to two editors who rejected them right off. I read those letters of rejection years later and I agreed with those editors.
You remember some bedrooms you have slept in. There are bedrooms you like to remember and others you would like to forget.
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky – or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
Valor is a gift. Those having it never know for sure whether they have it till the test comes. And those having it in one test never know for sure if they will have it when the next test comes.
Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.