A poet feels the impulse to create a work of art when the passive awe provoked by an event is transformed into a desire to express that awe in a rite of worship.

I smell blood and an era of prominent madmen.

In addition to English, at least one ancient language, probably Greek or Hebrew, and two modern languages would be required.

All good art is in the nature of a letter written to amuse a sick friend. Too much art, particularly in our time, is only a letter written to oneself.

Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.

Doom is dark and deeper than any sea-dingle.

August for the people and their favourite islands. Daily the steamers sidle up to meet The effusive welcome of the pier.