Hush! Were we not going to observe in silence the purple-crimson crucifixion of autumnal Phoebus? I have been as silent as the Barber of Scheherezade. Woe me, the Incurable!
Ibn Gabirol.
Sufficience
Helen Hoyt
I wish no guardian angel:
I do not seek fairies in the trees:
The trees are enough in themselves.
On Poetry
Aesthetics and Common-Sense
Llewellyn Jones