Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.

And many a poor man that has roved Loved and thought himself beloved From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.

I'm looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air.

A poet is a good citizen turned inside out.