What Makes Poetry? A Full Heart, Brimful

To Like Things Like, Whatever One May Ail; There Is Certain Help.

The Day Is Of Infinite Length For Him Who Knows How To Appreciate And Use It.

No Man Learns To Know His Inmost Nature By Introspection, For He Rates Himself Sometimes Too Low, And Often Too High, By His Own Measurement. Man Knows Himself Only By Comparing Himself With Other Men; It Is Life That Touches His Genuine Worth.

Life Is Too Short To Drink Bad Wine.

An Angel! Nonsense! Everybody So Describes His Mistress; And Yet I Find It Impossible To Tell You How Perfect She Is, Or Why She Is So Perfect: Suffice It To Say She Has Captivated All My Senses.