Let us describe the evening as it is:- The stars disposed in heaven as they are: Verlaine and Shakspere rotting, where they rot, Rimbaud remembered, and too soon forgot; Order in all things, logic in the dark; Arrangement in the atom and the spark; Time in the heart and sequence in the brain- Such as destroyed Rimbaud and fooled Verlaine. And let us then take godhead by the neck- And strangle it, and with it, rhetoric.

Once I loved, and she I loved was darkened. Again I loved, and love itself was darkened. Vainly we follow the circle of shadowy days. The screen at last grows …

The music ends. The screen grows dark. We hurry To go our devious secret ways, forgetting Those many lives . . . We loved, we laughed, we killed, We danced in …

You know, without my telling you, how sometimes A word or name eludes you, and you seek it Through running ghosts of shadow,-leaping at it, Lying in wait for i…

The true knowledge or science which exists nowhere but in the mind itself, has no other entity at all besides intelligibility; and therefore whatsoever is clea…

Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry.

No matter how many instances of white swans we may have observed, this does not justify the conclusion that all swans are white.