Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or do, Weigh me down, and not a day But something is recalled, My conscience or my vanity appalled.

An intellectual hate is the worst.

When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face.

Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice?

The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.

Bid imagination run / Much on the Great Questioner; / What He can question, what if questioned I / Can with a fitting confidence reply.

I have grown to believe that there is no dangerous idea, which does not become less dangerous when written out in sincere and careful English.