Like to write? Of course, of course I do. I seem to live while I write – it is life, for me.
Never say No when the world says Aye.
The world’s male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.
Eve is a twofold mystery.
The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light.
Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!
Let us be content to work To do the things we can, and not presume To fret because it’s little.
Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another!
If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
May the good God pardon all good men.
I should not dare to call my soul my own.
Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.
We have hearts within, Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts.
But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.
And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
God Himself is the best Poet, And the Real is His song.
And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.
My love for him was so exquisitely pure that if we all were capable of giving and receiving such a beautiful gift the world would be a far more brilliant place; I think we’d all be poets.
So mothers have God’s license to be missed.