Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.

Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

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

Health is the greatest of blessings - with health and hope we should be content to live.