So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!

A man in armor is his armor's slave.

A people is but the attempt of many To rise to the completer life of one; And those who live as models for the mass Are singly of more value than they all.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.