Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds.

Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O Never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play. And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost.

How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ?

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

My father was an angry and impatient teacher and flung the reading book at my head.

You know what the Englishman's idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no God. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two statements.

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