My land is bare of chattering folk; / the clouds are low along the ridges, / and sweet's the air with curly smoke / from all my burning bridges.

I wanted to be cute. That's the terrible thing. I should have had more sense.

His books are exciting and powerful and — if I may filch the word from the booksy ones — pulsing.

Then if my friendships break and bend, There's little need to cry The while I know that every foe Is faithful till I die.

I don't mind anything that's written about me, as long as it's not true.

If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it.

This must be a gift book. That is to say a book, which you wouldn't take on any other terms.