To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice. Ancient woods of my blood, dash down to the nut of the seas. If I take to burn or return this world which is each man's work.” ― Dylan Thomas, Collected Poems
As I read more and more - and it was not all verse, by any means - my love for the real life of words increased until I knew that I must live with them and in them, always. I knew, in fact, that I must be a writer of words, and nothing else.
There is only one position for an artist anywhere; and that is upright.
The first poems I knew were nursery rhymes, and before I could read them for myself, I had come to love just the words of them, the words alone.
Never be lucid, never state, if you would be regarded great.
Though lovers be lost, love shall not.
