I am one of those unhappy persons who inspire bores to the greatest flights of art.

As for the usefulness of poetry, its uses are many. It is the deification of reality.

[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.

If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

My temper is not spoilt. I am absolutely non-homicidal. Nor do I ever attack unless I have been attacked first, and then Heaven have mercy upon the attacker, because I don't! I just sharpen my wits on a wooden head as a cat sharpens its claws on the wood legs of a table.

My personal hobbies are reading, listening to music, and silence.