Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.

His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.

Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure.

On occasions, after drinking a pint of beer at luncheon, there would be a flow into my mind with sudden and unaccountable emotion, sometimes a line or two of verse, sometimes a whole stanza, accompanied, not preceded by a vague notion of the poem which they were destined to form a part of.... I say bubble up because, so far as I could make out, the source of the suggestions thus proffered to the brain was the pit of the stomach.

That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

Oh I have been to Ludlow fair, and left my necktie God knows where. And carried half way home, or near, pints and quarts of Ludlow beer.

The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.