Alone, Alone, About The Dreadful Wood /

We All Have These Places Where Shy Humiliations Gambol On Sunny Afternoons.

Those Who Hate To Go To Bed Fear Death; Those Who Hate To Get Up Fear Life.

The Surest Sign That A Man Has A Genuine Taste Of His Own Is That He Is Uncertain Of It.

A Poet, Qua Poet, Has Only One Political Duty, Namely, In His Own Writing To Set An Example Of The Correct Use Of His Mother Tongue, Which Is Always Being Corrupted. When Words Lose Their Meaning, Physical Force Takes Over.

Most Poetry Is The Utterance Of A Man In Some State Of Passion, Love, Joy, Grief, Rage, Etc., And No Doubt This Is As It Should Be. But No Man Is Perpetually In A Passion And Those States In Which He Is Amused And Amusing, Detached And Irreverent, If Less Important, Are No Less Amusing. If There Were No Poets Who, Like Byron, Express These States, Poetry Would Lack Something.