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The work of art assumes the existence of the perfect spectator, and is indifferent to the fact that no such person exists.
I am so used to seeing the sort of play which deals with one man and two women. They do not leave me with the feeling I have made a full theatrical meal they do not give me the experience of the multiplicity of life.
Charm, in most men and nearly all women, is a decoration.
One is certain of nothing but the truth of one’s own emotions.
One must be fond of people and trust them if one is not to make a mess of life.
The people I respect most behave as if they were immortal and as if society was eternal.
The sort of poetry I seek resides in objects man can’t touch.
A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
England has always been disinclined to accept human nature.
What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?