We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.

Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'

There are ten men in me and I do not know or understand one of them.

Every blunder behind us is giving a cheer for us, and only for those who were willing to fail are the dangers and splendors of life.

If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.

I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.

There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.