In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.
Beloved, till life can charm no more; And mourned, till Pity’s self be dead.
I think humor is a very serious thing. I use it as a way of weakening the reader’s defenses so that I can more easily take him to something more.
By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
Words like feminism or democracy scare me. They are words with barnacles on them, and you can’t see what’s underneath.
When a writer becomes a reader of his or her own work, a lot can go wrong. It’s like do-it-yourself dentistry.
Prior to Wordsworth, humor was an essential part of poetry. I mean, they don’t call them Shakespeare comedies for nothing.
Always mistrust a subordinate who never finds fault with his superior.
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country’s wishes blest!