But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one who swam ere rivers were begun, immense of fishy form and mind, squamous omnipotent, and kind.

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

There are only three things in the world, one is to read poetry, another is to write poetry, and the best of all is to live poetry.

The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.

I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation. These I shall have.

If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.

Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.