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

I took to wearing a black tie known as the Ascot, with long drooping ends. I had seen pictures of painters, sculptors, poets, wearing this style of tie.

Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand to your pencil to your paper till you get the answer.

Freedom is baffling: men having it often know not they have it till it is gone and they no longer have it.

Poetry is an art practiced with the terribly plastic material of human language.

What if someone gave a war & Nobody came? / Life would ring the bells of Ecstasy and Forever be Itself again.

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.