If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no read more

If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no other choice. Failing this duty, he sinks into oblivion. Society, on the other hand, has no obligation toward the poet. A majority by definition, society thinks of itself as having other options than reading verses, no matter how well written. Its failure to do so results in its sinking to that level of locution at which society falls easy prey to a demagogue or a tyrant. This is society's own equivalent of oblivion.

'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of read more

'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes. - Don Quixote.

I would live to study, and not study to live.

I would live to study, and not study to live.

We cultivate literature on a little oat-meal.

We cultivate literature on a little oat-meal.

For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.

For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.

How is it that little children are so intelligent and men so stupid? It must be education that does it.

How is it that little children are so intelligent and men so stupid? It must be education that does it.

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to read more

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Hell; the door of dark Dis stands open day and night. But to retrace your steps and come out to the air above, that is work, that is labor! - Aeneid, The.