The drama, like the symphony, does not teach or prove anything.

In a good play every speech should be as fully flavored as a nut or apple.

In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant, and to reveal the mood of beings who feel their isolation in the face of a universe that wars on them with winds and seas.

It is the timber of poetry that wears most surely, and there is no timber that has not strong roots among the clay and worms.

A low line of shore was visible at first on the right between the movement of the waves and fog, but when we came further it was lost sight of, and nothing could be seen but the mist curling in the rigging, and a small circle of foam.

A week of sweeping fogs has passed over and given me a strange sense of exile and desolation. I walk round the island nearly every day, yet I can see nothing anywhere but a mass of wet rock, a strip of surf, and then a tumult of waves.

A translation is no translation unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.