... the life of the mind is reality, and love without romantic illumination is a spiritless matter.

Nothingis so ungrateful as a rising generation; yet, if there is any faintest glimmer of light ahead of us in the present, itwas kindled by the intellectual fires that burned long before us.

Life has taught me that the greatest tragedy is not to die too soon but to live too long.

Spring, which germinated in the earth, moved also with a strange restlessness, in the hearts of... women. As the weeks passed, inextinguishable hope, which mounts with the rising sap, looked from their faces.

nations decay from within more often than they surrender to outward assault.

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.

It seems to me that this is the true test for poetry: - that it should go beneath experience, as prose can never do, and awaken an apprehension of things we have never, and can never, know in the actuality.