This novel is not to be tossed lightly aside, but hurled with great force.

This novel is not to be tossed lightly aside, but hurled with great force.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he read more

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! - Destruction of Sennacherib, The.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

Literature for me isn't a workaday job, but something which involves desires, dreams and fantasy.

Literature for me isn't a workaday job, but something which involves desires, dreams and fantasy.

I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have read more

I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have loved at all. - In Memoriam.

An understanding heart is everything is a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to read more

An understanding heart is everything is a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feeling. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.

A schoolmaster should have an atmosphere of awe, and walk wonderingly, as if he was amazed at being himself.

A schoolmaster should have an atmosphere of awe, and walk wonderingly, as if he was amazed at being himself.

When the waves are round me breaking,As I pace the deck alone,And my eye in vain is seekingSome green leaf read more

When the waves are round me breaking,As I pace the deck alone,And my eye in vain is seekingSome green leaf to rest upon;What would not I give to wanderWhere my old companions dwell?Absence makes the heart grow fonder,Isle of Beauty, fare thee well! - Paradise Lost.

We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have read more

We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have suffered the pain of loss, and the more wearing, continuous pain of frustration and failure; and have had moods of unlooked-for release and peace. They have known and watched in themselves and others.