Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold.

A wise man travels to discover himself.

In all literary history there is no such figure as Dante, no such homogeneousness of life and works, such loyalty to ideas, such sublime irrecognition of the unessential.

I tell ye wut, my judgment is you're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the the tail.

If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it's the light of the oncoming train.

A friendship counting nearly forty years is the finest kind of shade-tree I know.

[B]ut in literature, it should be remembered, a thing always becomes his at last who says it best, and thus makes it his own.