There are certain people whom one feels almost inclined to urge to hurry up and die so that their letters can be published.

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.

Mr. Gilbert had the earnest mania for self-improvement which has blighted the lives of so many young men.

The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.

The human mind appears suddenly and inexplicably out of some unknown and unimaginable void. It passes half its known life in the mental chaos of sleep. Even when awake it is a victim of its own ill-adjustment, of disease, of age, of external suggestion, of nature's compulsions; it doubts its own sensations and trusts only in instruments and averages.

Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it.

When Abraham Lincoln was murdered The one thing that interested Matthew Arnold Was that the assassin shouted in Latin As he lept on the stage This convinced Matthew There was still hope for America.