For I have had too much Of apple-picking:I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired.

It's a funny thing that when a man hasn't anything on earth to worry about, he goes off and gets married.

Nobody was ever meant, To remember or invent, What he did with every cent.

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been - alone, As all must be, I said within my heart, Whether they work together or apart.

Keats mourned that the rainbow, which as a boy had been for him a magic thing, had lost its glory because the physicists had found it resulted merely from the refraction of the sunlight by the raindrops. Yet knowledge of its causation could not spoil the rainbow for me. I am sure that it is not given to man to be omniscient. There will always be something left to know, something to excite the imagination of the poet and those attuned to the great world in which they live (p. 64)

I never knew what was meant by choice of words. It was one word or none.