Poetry is like painting: one piece takes your fancy if you stand close to it, another if you keep at some distance.
It is your concern when your neighbor's wall is on fire.
One cannot know everything.
In a long work sleep may be naturally expected.
Dull winter will re-appear.
The just man having a firm grasp of his intentions, neither the heated passions of his fellow men ordaining something awful, nor a tyrant staring him in the face, will shake in his convictions.