All great poetry is dipped in the dyes of the heart.
I have often wished I had time to cultivate modesty... but I am too busy thinking about myself.
It is hardly respectable to be good nowadays.
the arts are life accelerated and concentrated.
If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.
[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.