He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

In order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed: They must be fit for it: they must not do too much of it: and they must have a sense of success in it - not a doubtful sense, such as needs some testimony of others for its confirmation, but a sure sense, or rather knowledge, that so much work has been done well, and fruitfully done, whatever the world may say or think about it.

The most exciting rhythms seem unexpected and complex, the most beautiful melodies simple and inevitable.

What is a Professor of Poetry? How can poetry be professed?

The only way to spend New Year's Eve is either quietly with friends or in a brothel. Otherwise when the evening ends and people pair off, someone is bound to be left in tears.

Let me see what I wrote so I know what I think

Alone, alone, about the dreadful wood / Of conscious evil runs a lost mankind, / Dreading to find its Father.