The majority of poems one outgrows and outlives, as one outgrows and outlives the majority of human passions.

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, remembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea.

The overwhelming pressure of mediocrity, sluggish and indomitable as a glacier, will mitigate the most violent, and depress the most exalted revolution.

My name is only an anagram of toilets.

As we grow older, the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated of dead and living.

What we know of other people's only our memory of the moments during which we knew them.

Cling, swing, Spring, sing, Swing up into the apple tree.