A merely great intellect can produce prose, but not poetry, not one line.

The simple lack of her is more to me than others' presence.

If I should ever by chance grow richI'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch,Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater,And let them all to my eldest daughter.

The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood This Eastertide call into mind the men, Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should Have gathered them and will do never again.

Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed The speculating rooks at their nests cawed And saw from elm tops, delicate as flower of grass, What we below could not see, Winter pass.

How nice it would be to be dead if only we could know we were dead. That is what I hate, the not being able to turn round in the grave and to say It is over.

As well as any bloom upon a flower I like the dust on the nettles, never lost Except to prove the sweetness of a shower.

Making war or rebellion is messy, like eating soup off a knife.

Verse is the natural speech of men, as singing is of birds'The Week's Survey, 18 June 1904

Yes; I remember Adlestrop- The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June.

I built myself a house of glass:It took me years to make it:And I was proud. But now, alas!Would God someone would break it.

Not knowing is not a problem, not wondering is.

The Senate is a place filled with goodwill and good intentions, and if the road to hell is paved with them, then it's a pretty good detour.

Tore up from the floor up. Followed by a big outtie. John Mathew

A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.

Don't impose your will through manipulation of aggressive emotions and actions.

A total immersion in life offers the best classroom for learning to love.

Theres so many other things to write about than unrequited love.

I do turn down things that I feel aren't right for me, like when it's some kind of adolescent thing that might typecast me, but I'm not worried about it.

Never stop writing because you have run out of ideas. Fill the lacunae of inspiration by tidily copying out what is already written.

Haven't you learned yet that I put something more than whisky into my speeches.