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able attempt beauty become beginning believe busy Carl Sandburg catch clear comes complete course critic dark deals delicious delights easy emotions expected eyes face feeling Forest give greatest grow Gurdjieff happy hear heart honour human humour imagination instinct interesting Keats keep kind land Leaves letter light literary literature living lonely looked loveliness lovely material matter mean ment merely mind Nature never night once one's painful pass Past perhaps phrase pitiable poem poet poetry problem reader reason remember rise secret seems seen sense sentence sentiment sleep solitary sometimes Song sonnet sort soul sound speak spirit stars strange Street suffer suppose tell terror thing thought thrilling tion troubled true truth trying understand Walt Whitman whole wonder write written young
Página 114 - Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar...
Página 153 - While all melts under our feet, we may well catch at any exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowledge that seems by a lifted horizon to set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange colours, and curious odours, or work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend. Not to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those about us, and in the brilliancy of their gifts some tragic dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day...
Página i - Now it appears to me that almost any Man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy Citadel — the points of leaves and twigs on which the spider begins her work are few, and she fills the air with a beautiful circuiting.
Página 116 - ... when I thought last of God in that prayer, I cannot tell: Sometimes I finde that I had forgot what I was about, but when I began to forget it, I cannot tell. A memory of yesterdays pleasures, a feare of to morrows dangers, a straw under my knee, a noise in mine eare, a light in mine eye, an any thing, a nothing, a fancy, a Chimera in my braine, troubles me in my prayer. So certainely is there nothing, nothing in spirituall things, perfect in this world.
Página 155 - There is no excellent Beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
Página 153 - The Vision of Christ that thou dost see Is my vision's greatest enemy. Thine has a great hook nose like thine, Mine has a snub nose like to mine.
Página 23 - What to such as you anyhow such a poet as I ? therefore leave my works, And go lull yourself with what you can understand, and with piano-- tunes, For I lull nobody, and you will never understand me.
Página 155 - Shepherds are honest people; let them sing: Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prime: I...
Página 151 - I think poetry should surprise by a fine excess, and not by singularity; it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.