Most writers in the course of their careers become thick-skinned and learn to accept vituperation, which in any other profession would be unimaginably offensive, as a healthy counterpoise to unintelligent praise.

Then I knew that the sign I had asked for was not a little thing, not a passing nod of recognition, and a phrase came back to me from my childhood of the veil of the temple being rent from top to bottom.

She had heard someone say something about an Independent Labour Party, and was furious that she had not been asked.

Never get mixed up in a Welsh wrangle. It doesn't end in blows like an Irish one, but goes on forever.

I have been in the scholastic profession long enough to know that nobody enters it unless he has some very good reason that he is anxious to conceal.

There are no poetic ideas; only poetic utterances.

There's only one great evil in the world today. Despair.