“Most forms of rage, after all, are only sloppy cloaks for grief.”

“Grief is terror, in its most undiluted form.”

“Anger is useful only to a certain point. After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless.”

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”

“In my craft or sullen artExercised in the still nightWhen only the moon ragesAnd the lovers lie abedWith all their griefs in their arms,I labour by singing lightNot for ambition or breadOr the strut and trade of charmsOn the ivory stagesBut for the common wagesOf their most secret heart.Not for the proud man apartFrom the raging moon I writeOn these spindrift pagesNor for the towering deadWith their nightingales and psalmsBut for the lovers, their armsRound the griefs of the ages,Who pay no praise or wagesNor heed my craft or art.”

“The most hateful grief of all human griefs is this, to have knowledge of the truth but no power over the event.”