To the sun Rome owes its underlying glow, and its air called golden - to me, more the yellow of white wine; like wine it raises agreeability to poetry.

nothing is more restful than conformity.

It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home.

Bring all your intelligence to bear on your beginning.

There's something so showy about desperation, it takes hard wits to see it's a grandiose form of funk.

memory is to love what the saucer is to the cup.

This, my first [bicycle] had an intrinsic beauty. And it opened for me an era of all but flying, which roads emptily crossing theairy, gold-gorsy Common enhanced. Nothing since has equalled that birdlike freedom.