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Nature's my muse and it's been my passion.

Poets are Damned... but See with the Eyes of Angels.

Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony.

The muses visit when I'm lonely.

One travels so as to learn once more how to marvel at life in the way a child does. And blessed be the poet, the artist who knows how to keep alive his sense of wonder.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.

Prose talks and poetry sings.

The muse, the beloved, and duende are three ways of thinking of what is the source of poetry, and all three seem to me different names or different ways to think about something that is not entirely reasonable, not entirely subject to the will, not entirely rational.

You should treat a muse like a fairy.

A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.