Any religion is forever in danger of petrifaction into mere ritual and habit, though ritual and habit be essential to religion.

There is no absolute point of view from which real and ideal can be finally separated and labelled.

This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.

After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions Guides us by vanities.

Sensibility alters from generation to generation in everybody, whether we will or no; but expression is only altered by a man of genius.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep

Before a cat will condescend to treat you as a trusted friend, some little token of esteem is needed, like a dish of cream.