An intellectual hate is the worst.

In life courtesy and self-possession, and in the arts style, are the sensible impressions of the free mind, for both arise out of a deliberate shaping of all things and from never being swept away, whatever the emotion into confusion or dullness.

And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.

Because I helped to wind the clock, I come to hear it strike.

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

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.

The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work And if it take the second must refuse A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.