I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason.
Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, retreating to the corner of arm and knee, eager to be reassured, taking pleasure in the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree.
I don't believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.
What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.
Home is where one starts from.
Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
Television is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.
Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.
You are the music while the music lasts.
Knowledge is invariably a matter of degree: you cannot put your finger upon even the simplest datum and say this we know.
If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
And they write innumerable books; being too vain and distracted for silence: seeking every one after his own elevation, and dodging his emptiness.
O Lord, deliver me from the man of excellent intention and impure heart: for the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.
Our difficulties of the moment must always be dealt with somehow, but our permanent difficulties are difficulties of every moment.
People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.
This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.
Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
Business today consists in persuading crowds.
Let's not be narrow, nasty, and negative.
Our high respect for a well read person is praise enough for literature.
There is not a more repulsive spectacle than on old man who will not forsake the world, which has already forsaken him.
Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly.
A play should give you something to think about. When I see a play and understand it the first time, then I know it can't be much good.
Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.
As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing.
The Nobel is a ticket to one's own funeral. No one has ever done anything after he got it.
I am an Anglo-Catholic in religion, a classicist in literature and a royalist in politics.
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.
All significant truths are private truths. As they become public they cease to become truths; they become facts, or at best, part of the public character; or at worst, catchwords.
It is only in the world of objects that we have time and space and selves.