Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.

The morrow was a bright September morn; The earth was beautiful as if newborn; There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.

I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.

I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.

My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea

Every great poem is in itself limited by necessity, but in its suggestions unlimited and infinite.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.