I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.

Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.

I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.

The bells they sound on Bredon, And still the steeples hum. "Come all to church, good people"- Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; I hear you, I will come.

Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.

The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.