The heart less bounding at emotion new, The hope, once crushed, less quick to spring again.

Poetry is simply the most beautiful, impressive, and widely effective mode of saying things.

Still bent to make some port he knows not where, still standing for some false impossible shore.

Whoever sets himself to see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its own work that adequate ideas will ever get current at all.

Art still has truth. Take refuge there.

History - a vast Mississippi of falsehoods

Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again. For then the night will more than pay The hopeless longing of the day.