Kaisers And Czars Will Strut The Stage

A Banker Warned The British Poet Robert Graves That One Could Not Grow Rich Writing Poetry. He Replied That If There Was No Money In Poetry, There Was Certainly No Poetry In Money, And So It Was All Even.

Poetry Is No More A Narcotic Than A Stimulant; It Is A Universal Bittersweet Mixture For All Possible Household Emergencies And Its Action Varies Accordingly As It Is Taken In A Wineglass Or A Tablespoon, Inhaled, Gargled Or Rubbed On The Chest By Hard Fingers Covered With Rings.

To Know Only One Thing Well Is To Have A Barbaric Mind: Civilization Implies The Graceful Relation Of All Varieties Of Experience To A Central Humane System Of Thought. The Present Age Is Peculiarly Barbaric: Introduce, Say, A Hebrew Scholar To An Ichthyologist Or An Authority On Danish Place Names And The Pair Of Them Would Have No Single Topic In Common But The Weather Or The War (if There Happened To Be A War In Progress, Which Is Usual In This Barbaric Age).

As You Are Woman, So Be Lovely: As You Are Lovely, So Be Various, Merciful As Constant, Constant As Various, So Be Mine, As I Yours For Ever.

Truth-loving Persians Do Not Dwell Upon The Trivial Skirmish Fought Near Marathon.