“The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.”

“Being a poet is one of the unhealthier jobs--no regular hours, so many temptations!”

“But he sleeps on the top of his mastwith his eyes closed tight.The gull inquired into his dream,which was, "I must not fall.The spangled sea below wants me to fall.It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all.”

“Lullaby For the CatMinnow, go to sleep and dream,Close your great big eyes;Round your bed Events prepareThe pleasantest surprise.Darling Minnow, drop that frown,Just cooperate,Not a kitten shall be drownedIn the Marxist State.Joy and Love will both be yours,Minnow, don't be glum.Happy days are coming soon --Sleep, and let them come...”

“Oh, must we dream our dreamsand have them, too?”

“Dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of foodand love, but they were pleasant rather than otherwise. But then I'd dream of thingslike slitting a baby's throat, mistaking itfor a baby goat. I'd havenightmares of other islandsstretching away from mine, infinitiesof islands, islands spawning islands,like frogs' eggs turning into polliwogsof islands, knowing that I had to liveon each and every one, eventually,for ages, registering their flora,their fauna, their geography.”

“Why shouldn't we, so generally addicted to the gigantic, at last have some small works of art, some short poems, short pieces of music [...], some intimate, low-voiced, and delicate things in our mostly huge and roaring, glaring world?”