For A Desperate Disease A Desperate Cure.

We Are Nearer Neighbours To Ourselves Than Whiteness To Snow, Or Weight To Stones.

When I Dance, I Dance; When I Sleep, I Sleep; Yes, And When I Walk Alone In A Beautiful Orchard, If My Thoughts Drift To Far-off Matters For Some Part Of The Time For Some Other Part I Lead Them Back Again To The Walk, The Orchard, To The Sweetness Of This Solitude, To Myself.

Poetry Reproduces An Indefinable Mood That Is More Amorous Than Love Itself. Venus Is Not So Beautiful All Naked, Alive, And Panting, As She Is Here In Virgil.

An Able Reader Often Discovers In Other People's Writings Perfections Beyond Those That The Author Put In Or Perceived, And Lends Them Richer Meanings And Aspects.

My Appetite Comes To Me While Eating.