Culture being a pursuit of our total perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world.

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

Six years-six little years-six drops of time.

The nice sense of measure is certainly not one of Nature's gifts to her English children ... we have all of us yielded to infatuation at some moment of our lives.

The brave, impetuous heart yields everywhere to the subtle, contriving head.

The future of poetry is immense, because in poetry, where it is worthy of its high destinies, our race, as time goes on, will find an ever surer and surer stay ... More and more mankind will discover that we have to turn to poetry to interpret life for us, to console us, to sustain us.

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.