Oh! death will find me, long before I tire Of watching for you; and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land!

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

And in my flower-beds, I think, Smile the carnation and the pink.

Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.

Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.

Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress; and love has changed to kindliness.

A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.

There are only three things in the world, one is to read poetry, another is to write poetry, and the best of all is to live poetry.

If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.

Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.

All the little emptiness of love!

You'll find that more doors open if you approach them with an open heart rather than a closed mind.

I take advantage of every thing I can - age, hair, disability - because my cause is just.

Here lives a free man. Nobody serves him.

Thinking is hard work; that's why so few do it.

Do right. Risk the consequences.

Let us prefer the lonely cottage, while blest with liberty, to gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery.

God's grace is so powerful that it has the capacity to overcome our natural resistance to it.

Neither is a dictionary a bad book to read. There is no can't in it, no excess of explanation, and it is full of suggestion, the raw material of possible poems and histories.