The central idea of poetry is the idea of guessing right, like a child.
Ritual will always mean throwing away something: destroying our corn or wine upon the altar of our gods.
Just the other day in the Underground I enjoyed the pleasure of offering my seat to three ladies.
Spring never is spring unless it comes too soon.
He can only get away from death by continually stepping within an inch of it.
A society is in decay, final or transitional, when common sense really becomes uncommon.