Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance.

Michael Robartes remembers forgotten beauty and, when his arms wrap her round, he presses in his arms the loveliness which has long faded from the world. Not this. Not at all. I desire to press in my arms the loveliness which has not yet come into the world.

Let us leave theories there and return to here's hear.

The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works.

They lived and laughed and loved and left.

This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.

A nation is the same people living in the same place.