I'm Afraid I'm Being An Awful Nuisance.

By 'happiness' I Do Not Mean Worldly Success Or Outside Approval, Though It Would Be Priggish To Deny That Both These Things Are Most Agreeable. I Mean The Inner Consciousness, The Inner Conviction That One Is Doing Well The Thing That One Is Best Fitted To Do By Nature.

In The Augustan Age ... Poetry Was ... The Sister Of Architecture; With The Romantics, And Their Heightened Vowel-sense, Resulting In Different Melodic Lines, She Became The Sister Of Music; In The Present Day, She Appears Like The Sister Of Horticulture, Each Poem Growing According To The Law Of Its Own Nature.

One's Own Surroundings Means So Much To One, When One Is Feeling Miserable.

As For The Usefulness Of Poetry, Its Uses Are Many. It Is The Deification Of Reality.

All Great Art Contains An Element Of The Irrational.