The sun pours out like wine.

A child without an acquaintance of some kind with a classic of literature ... suffers from that impoverishment for the rest of his life. No later intimacy is like that of the first.

For poetry, more than any other art, except music, has a compelling hold upon the spiritual side of life.

The old faiths light their candles all about, but burly Truth comes by and puts them out.

Thrice blessed are they whose early years are spent in some countryside. The flowering and withering of the seasons, and every exquisite sound and sight - every lane, and pasture, and green corners and gnarled hollows everywhere, make them affluent with a treasure which neither change nor chance can steal away.

I wonder at the idleness of tears.

The sun pours out like wine.