I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.
Names are not important. To speak is to name names, but to speak is not important.
Why isn’t there a special name for the tops of your feet?
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
But what am I? An infant crying in the night, an infant crying for the light; and with no language but a cry.
A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
If you would be pungent, be brief; for it is with words as with sunbeams – the more they are condensed, the deeper they burn.
Articulate words are a harsh clamor and dissonance. When man arrives at his highest perfection, he will again be dumb!