Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.
My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails.
It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols.
The Thames is a wretched river after the Mersey and the ships are not like Liverpool ships and the docks are barren of beauty ... it is a beastly hole after Liverpool; for Liverpool is the town of my heart and I would rather sail a mudflat there than command a clipper out of London
Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing.