Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you

You have to develop a conscience and if on top of that you have talent so much the better. But if you have talent without conscience, you are just one of many thousand journalists.

They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.

How the unforgettable faces of dusk would blend to her, the myriad footsteps, a thousand overtures, would blend to her footsteps; and there would be more drunkenness than wine in the softness of her eyes on his.

Whenever you feel like criticizing any one... just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.

Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.

Tireless passion, fierce jealousy, longing to possess and crush-these alone were left of all his love for Rosalind; these remained to him as payment for the loss of his youth-bitter calomel under the thin sugar of love's exaltation.