There are not many English novels which deserve to be called great: Parade's End is one of them.

In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.

There has been a vast output of critical studies in contemporary poetry, some of them first rate, but I do not think that , as a rule, a poet should read them.

Precisely because we do not communicate by singing, a song can be out of place but not out of character; it is just as credible that a stupid person should sing beautifully as that a clever person should do so.

Soft as the earth is mankind and both need to be altered.

The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the teacup opens A lane to the land of the dead.

Pleasure is by no means an infallible critical guide, but it is the least fallible.