Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic beauty of medieval life.

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 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 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.

I'm a good scholar when it comes to reading but a blotting kind of writer when you give me a pen.

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

A man who is not afraid of the sea will soon be drowned, for he will be going out on a day when he shouldn't.