Let us honor if we can the vertical man, though we value none but the horizontal one
Sob, heavy world Sob as you spin, Mantled in mist Remote from the happy.
Some writers confuse authenticity, which they ought always to aim at, with originality, which they should never bother about.
An unmanly sort of man whose love life seems to have been largely confined to crying in laps and playing mouse.
Soft as the earth is mankind and both need to be altered.
Alone, alone, about the dreadful wood / Of conscious evil runs a lost mankind, / Dreading to find its Father.