Virginia Woolf's writing is no more than glamorous knitting. I believe she must have a pattern somewhere.
My poems are hymns of praise to the glory of life.
All great poetry is dipped in the dyes of the heart.
There is no truth. Only points of view.
The child and the great artist -- these alone receive the sensation fresh as it was at the beginning of the world.
If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.