“Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy wades through water, feeling with his toes for the bottom: The echoes are the bottom.”
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To regard the imagination as metaphysics is to think of it as part of life, and to think of it as part of life is to realize the extent of artifice. We live in the mind.
In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs.
It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.
