As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.

Criticism is properly the rod of divination: a hazel switch for the discovery of buried treasure, not a birch twig for the castigation of offenders.

Vaguely conscious of that great suspense in which we live, we find our escape from its sterile, annihilating reality in many dreams, in religion, passion, art.

A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation.

I had my dreams of Venice, but nothing that I had dreamed was as impossible as what I found.

The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.

Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.