For the poet is light, winged, and holy. There is no inven-
tion in him until he has been inspired, out of his senses,
and has no mind.
—Socrates to Ion
Poets refuse to utilize language. Since the quest for truth
takes place in and by language, it is useless to imagine that
poets look for truth.
—Jean-Paul Sartre, What is Literature?
One morning W.B. came back from the post office. “I
don’t understand,” he cried. “It’s closed! No one is there!”
“But Mr. Yeats,” I replied, “It is Christmas Day.”
—Dorothea von Kreicke, The Swan’s Wife
I am quite deaf now. Such a comfort.
—Evelyn Waugh to Nancy Mitford