The world, in its sheer exuberance of kindness, will try to bury the poet with warm and lovely human trivialities. It will even ask him to autograph books.

There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning and yearning.

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

My theology, briefly, is that the universe was dictated but not signed.

If you have to keep reminding yourself of a thing, perhaps it isn't so.

How womanly it is to ask the unanswerable at the moment impossible.

Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only the unhappy are churlish in deportment.