Don't Think Too Much Of Style.

It Is For Him That Is Lonely Or In Prison To Dream Of Fellowship, But For Him That Is Of A Fellowship To Do And Not To Dream.

I Half Wish That I Had Not Been Born With A Sense Of Romance And Beauty In This Accursed Age.

Late February Days; And Now, At Last, Might You Have Thought That Winter's Woe Was Past; So Fair The Sky Was And So Soft The Air.

Speak But One Word To Me.

That Talk Of Inspiration Is Sheer Nonsense; There Is No Such Thing. It Is A Mere Matter Of Craftsmanship.