Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.

But you, you foolish girl, you have gone home to a leaky castle across the sea to lie awake in linen smelling of lavender, and hear the nightingale, and long for me.

The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.

I find that I never lose Bach. I don't know why I have always loved him so. Except that he is so pure, so relentless and incorruptible, like a principle of geometry.

The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.

I am all the time talking about you, and bragging, to one person or another. I am like the Ancient Mariner, who had a tale in his heart he must unfold to all. I am always buttonholing somebody and saying, "Someday you must meet my mother."