It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind.

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you're an artist, by children if you're not.

The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke... Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere.

A good meal can somewhat repair / The eatings of slight love

What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. Theyare to be happy in: Where can we live but days?

Above all, though, children are linked to adults by the simple fact that they are in process of turning into them. For this they may be forgiven much. Children are bound to be inferior to adults, or there is no incentive to grow up.

He married a woman to stop her getting away Now she's there all day.