The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

I should tell you that honestly, on my honour of a Nearwicked, I always think in a wordworth's of that primed favourite continental poet, Daunty, Gouty and Shopkeeper, A.G., whom the generality admoyers in this that is and that this is to come.

The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.

I confess that I do not see what good it does to fulminate against the English tyranny while the Roman tyranny occupies the palace of the soul.

Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.

The mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious.