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.

The poet speaks to all men of that other life of theirs that they have smothered and forgotten.

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

My poems are hymns of praise to the glory of life.

The trouble with most Englishwomen is that they will dress as if they had been a mouse in a previous incarnation... they do not want to attract attention.

it is as unseeing to ask what is the use of poetry as it would be to ask what is the use of religion.

The trouble about most Englishwomen is that they will dress as if they had been a mouse in a previous incarnation, or hope to be one in the next.