No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

To a Young Poet Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird. Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you, Can die as others do.

The only people I really hate are servants. They're not really human beings at all.

There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough.

Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me in a book I wrote, How first you loved me for a written line.

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.

pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.