What The Public Criticizes In You, Cultivate.

Poetry Is A Religion With No Hope.

Youth Is Certain What It Rejects Before It Knows What It Will Accept.

I Want The Kind Of Readers Who Remain Children At Any Cost. I Can Tell Them At A Glance: Loyalty To That First Enchantment Guards Better Than Any Cosmetic; Than Any Diet, Against The Insults Of Age. But Alas For Such Readers, Who Would Huddle Safe And Sound In The Asylum Of Their Credulous Enchantment As If In The Womb-our Enervating Century Offends Them By Its Chaos, Its Fidgets Of Light And Space, The Host Of Its Excuses For Dividing , For Rending Oneself From Others And From Oneself.

Since It's Now Fashionable To Laugh At The Conservative French Academy, I Have Remained A Rebel By Joining It.

The Joy Of The Young Is To Disobey