The art of newspaper paragraphing is to stroke a platitude until it purrs like an epigram.

This is another day! Are its eyes blurred with maudlin grief for any wasted past? A thousand thousand failures shall not daunt! Let dust clasp dust, death, death; I am alive!

My heart hath followed all my days Something I cannot name.

If the world were not so full of people, and most of them did not have to work so hard, there would be more time for them to get out and lie on the grass, and there would be more grass for them to lie on.

An idea isn't responsible for the people who believe in it.

it is better to be a part of beauty for one instant and then cease to exist than to exist forever and never be a part of beauty

Ideas pull the trigger, but instinct loads the gun.