True scholarship consists in knowing not what things exist, but what they mean; it is not memory but judgment.

The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.

Nature fits all her children with something to do, he who would write and can't write, can surely review.

Have you ever rightly considered what the mere ability to read means? That it is the key which admits us to the whole world of thought and fancy and imagination? to the company of saint and sage, of the wisest and the wittiest at their wisest and wittiest moment? That it enables us to see with the keenest eyes, hear with the finest ears, and listen to the sweetest voices of all time? More than that, it annihilates time and space for us.

What a sense of security in an old book which Time has criticized for us!

The eye is the notebook of the poet.

Old gold has a civilizing virtue which new gold must grow old to be capable of secreting.