When you argue with your inferiors, you convince them of only one thing: they are as clever as you.
Since I no longer expect anything from mankind except madness, meanness, and mendacity; egotism, cowardice, and self-delusion, I have stopped being a misanthrope.
Only the tiniest fracton of mankind want freedom. All the rest want someone to tell them theyare free.
By walking, I found out where I was going.
We love in another's soul whatever of ourselves we can deposit in it; the greater the deposit, the greater the love
God is indeed dead. He died of self-horror when He saw the creature He had made in His own image.
Canadians look down on the United States and consider it Hell. They are right to do so. Canada is to the United States what, in Dante's scheme, Limbo is to Hell
A poet is deeply conflicted and it's in his work that he reconciles those deep conflicts. The place is the harbor. It doesn't set the world in order, you know, it's the place of reconciliation. It's the Consolamentum, the kiss of peace.
Whom the gods do not intend to destroy, they first make mad with poetry.
A Canadian is someone who keeps asking the question, 'What is a Canadian?
leaf and blossom uncurl
and living things arrange their death,
while someone from afar off
blows birthday candles for the world.
A political leader worthy of assassination
It amazes me that organs that piss Can give human beings such perfect bliss.
Conscience: self-esteem with a halo.
Idealist: a cynic in the making.
Death is a name for beauty not in use.
My neighbor doesn't want to be loved as much as he wants to be envied.
Progress of a marriage: There was a time when you couldn't make me happy. Now the time has come when you can make me unhappy.
I am a genius who has written poems that will survive with the best of Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Keats
To this pass Christianity has come There is no God, and Jesus is his son.
like a burr:
a little soreness.
Time flames like a paraffin stove / and what burns are the minutes I live.
And me happiest when I compose poems:
Love, power, the huzza of battle
are something, are much:
yet a poem includes them like a pool
water and reflection.
I have stopped being a misanthrope.
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