The Living Blind And Seeing Dead Together

If Certain Critics And Poetasters Had Their Way, 'ordinary Piety' And Its Child, Dullness, Would Be The Masters Of Poetry.

I'm Dying, But Otherwise I'm In Very Good Health.

I Am Patient With Stupidity But Not With Those Who Are Proud Of It.

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.

People Are Usually Made Dames For Virtues I Do Not Possess.