The only enemy of innocence and beauty is time.

All that we did, all that we said or sang must come from contact with the soil.

Things thought too long can be no longer thought, For beauty dies of beauty, worth of worth, And ancient lineaments are blotted out.

I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.

It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.

It is most important that we should keep in this country a certain leisured class. I am of the opinion of the ancient Jewish book which says there is no wisdom without leisure.

I have no question: It is enough, I know what fixed the station Of star and cloud. And knowing all, I cry. . . .