I want a fever in poetry: a fever and tranquillity.
Poetry fettered fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry painting and music are destroyed or flourish.
The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom no clock can...
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
When I tell the truth it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not...
You know, for most of its life bluegrass has had this stigma of being all...
Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
I like finding that common point between another...
