Do not be proud of your inconsistency. It is a pity, it is a pity that we should be equipped like this. It is a pity that Man cannot be at the same time impressive and truthful.

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.

Riposte of "that old lady in the anecdote who was accused by her nieces of being illogical," Logic! Good gracious! What rubbish! How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?

The English countryside, its growth and its destruction, is a genuine and tragic theme.

The main facts in human life are five: birth, food, sleep, love and death.

Logic! Good gracious! What rubbish!

We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet.