One may have staunch friends in one's own family, but one seldom has admirers.

I have sometimes thought that his bursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication.

One cannot divine nor forecast the conditions that will make happiness; one only stumbles upon them by chance, in a lucky hour, at the world's end somewhere, and hold fast to the days.

William Tavener never heeded ominous forecasts in the domestic horizon, and he never looked for a storm until it broke.

The irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand.

If there were no girls like them in the world, there would be no poetry

Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.