I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave - thank God for the quiet grave

He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.

Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.

I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.

To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.

Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.