Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant.

Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.

The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed.

One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.