The group is only interested in the formal publishing of individuals for the purpose of establishing their social solidarity. - Laura Riding

A new type of poem has been evolved and popularized by the demands of the anthology-reading public. It is called 'the perfect modern lyric.' Like the best-seller novel, it is usually achieved in the dark; but certain critical regulations can be made for it. It must be fairly regular in form and easily memorized, it must be a new combination of absolutely warn-out material, it must have a certain unhealthy vigour or languor, and it must start off engagingly with a simple sentimental statement. Somewhere a daring pseudo-poetical image must be included...

You know the story of the famous seer Phineus whom the Argonauts consulted when they stopped in Salmydessos in Thrace on their way to Colchis to get the golden fleece. He was blind, but not entirely blind - he could see just enough to see that he could not see. And the little flickering spots of light that forced themselves on him were wind-harpies trying to steal from him his prophetic power. So he would beg everyone to make him blind, to rid him of the harpies. But people laughed at him because, so far as they could tell, he was as blind as any man needed to be. Only Hercules understood, because his spirit extended into the divine shadows. Only Hercules had the courage to make the blind Phineus blind.

If you take two words like 'tame' and 'domesticated', you're forced to think of the divergence in meaning, not the similarity. You say to yourself, in getting it clear, "A dog is a tame wolf, a cat is a domesticated tiger." A cat never really tames, while tameness is the essence of a dog's soul. You tame the wolf into a dog, but the tiger domesticates itself into a cat. In this way there's more real oppositeness between things that are like than between things that are different. The kind of oppositeness, I mean, that there is between words when you discard one in favour of another.