You need to read good poetry with an attitude that is a mixture of sharp intelligence and willing emotional empathy, at once penetrating and generous. When you begin to read a poem you are entering a foreign country whose laws and language and life are a kind of translation of your own; but to accept it because its stews taste exactly like your old mother’s hash, or to reject it because the owl-headed goddess of wisdom in its temple is fatter than the Statue of Liberty, is an equal mark of that want of imagination, that inaccessibility to experience, of which each of us who dies a natural death will die.
— “The Obscurity of the Poet”