“And so it was I entered the broken world To trace the visionary company of love, its voice An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled) But not for long to hold each desperate choice. Hart Crane
“And biased by full sails, meridians reel Thy purpose—still one shore beyond desire! The sea’s green crying towers a-sway, Beyond. Hart Crane
“The phonographs of hades in the brain Are tunnels that re-wind themselves, and love A burnt match skating in a urinal— Hart Crane
“One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment.Hart Crane