What wretched poverty of language! To compare stars to diamonds!

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it

Poetry is as precise a thing as geometry.

I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.

...and since, human speech is like a cracked tin kettle, on which we hammer out tunes to make bears dance when we long to move the stars