It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.

In the power and splendor of the universe, inspiration waits for the millions to come. Man has only to strive for it. Poems greater than the Iliad, plays greater than Macbeth, stories more engaging than Don Quixote await their seeker and finder.

Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.

Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.