Is it so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun to have lived light in the spring to have loved to have thought to have done?
We forget because we must And not because we will.
The same heart beats in every human breast.
They who await no gifts from chance have conquered fate.
Use your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged practice what you know, and you shall attain to higher knowledge.
Poetry a criticism of life under the conditions fixed for such a criticism by the laws of poetic truth and poetic beauty.
Journalism is literature in a hurry.
For rigorous teachers seized my youth, And purged its faith, and trimm'd its fire, Show'd me the high, white star of Truth, There bade me gaze, and there aspire. Even now their whispers pierce the glo...
This strange disease of modern life with its sick hurry its divided aims.