Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.

By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.

It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our enemy that we like, and something in our sweetheart that we dislike.

When You Are Old" WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is

Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.

I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'