Life isn’t all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years.
Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo; and the happier he.
On and on eternally Shall your altered fluid run, Bud and bloom and go to seed; But your singing days are done.
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness – presently Every bed is narrow.
O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard, Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure.
I am not at all in favor of hard work for its own sake; many people who work very hard indeed produce terrible things, and should most certainly not be encouraged.
That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying, House without air, I leave you and lock your door. Wild swans, come over the town, come over The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom golden in the green grass, this life can be.
Man has never been the same since God died.
Death devours all lovely things.
But if I can’t be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!
There isn’t a train I wouldn’t take, no matter where it’s going.
When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you; if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
I hate people but I love gatherings.
I screamed, and – lo! – Infinity Came down and settled over me.