The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen read more

The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation.

University politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.

University politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.

At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain,Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain:Then, Prince! You should have fear'd, what read more

At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain,Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain:Then, Prince! You should have fear'd, what now you feel;Achilles absent was Achilles still:Yet a short space the great avenger stayed,Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. - Iliad, The.

Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.

Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work read more

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work of art is an invention distinctive enough to be patented.

If you look at history you'll find that no state has been so plagued by its rulers as when power read more

If you look at history you'll find that no state has been so plagued by its rulers as when power has fallen into the hands of some dabbler in philosophy or literary addict.

Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.

Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.

Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths theater.

Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths theater.

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's read more

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die;Lord have mercy on us. - Song in Time of Pestilence.