The poet is always our contemporary.

There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperated. Not in dreams; but here and now, in this room, with living people. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.

Friendships, even the best of them, are frail things. One drifts apart.

I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

You send a boy to school in order to make friends - the right sort.

Money dignifies what is frivolous if unpaid for.