. . . this rage - I have never forgotten it - contained every anger, every revolt I had ever felt in my life - the way I felt when I saw the black dog hunted, the way I felt when I watched old Uncle Henry taken away to the almshouse, the way I felt whenever I had seen people or animals hurt for the pleasure or profit of others.

Though it sounds absurd, it is true to say I felt younger at sixty than I felt at twenty.

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.

it is wiser to be conventionally immoral than unconventionally moral. It isn't the immorality they object to, but the originality.

There is only one force stronger than selfishness, and that is stupidity.

And where was happiness if it sprung not from the soil? Where contentment if it dwelt not near to Nature?

Happiness is a hardy annual.