Cast a cold eye on life, on death Horseman pass by

The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. . . . I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance - the revolt of the soul against the intellect.

Hearts with one purpose alone/Through summer and winter seem/Enchanted to a stone/To trouble the living stream.

I Sing what was lost and dread what was won, / I walk in a battle fought over again.

O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.

I think you can leave the arts, superior or inferior, to the conscience of mankind.

It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.