My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails.
All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.
His face was filled with broken commandments.
Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down.
Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few.
Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.