Till Human voices wake us, and we drown.

Survival is your strength not your shame.

To be master or servant within an hour, this is the course of temporal power.

All time is unreedemable.

The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason.

We returned to our palaces, these Kingdoms, but no longer at ease here in the old dispensation, with an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.

The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.

There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.

It's not wise to violate the rules until you know how to observe them.

The poet's mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.

Not fare well, but fare forward.

Two people who know they do not understand each other, breeding children whom they do not understand and who will never understand them.

An editor should tell the author his writing is better than it is. Not a lot better, a little better.

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it.

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information? The cycles of heaven in twenty centuries have bought us farther from God and nearer to the dust.

We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

Each day a raid on the inarticulate.

Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, retreating to the corner of arm and knee, eager to be reassured, taking pleasure in the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree.

All cases are unique, and very similar to others.

I have seen the eternal Footman snicker hold my coat, and snicker. And in short I was afraid...

It is essential that a work of art should be self-consistent, that an artist should consciously or unconsciously draw a circle beyond which he does not trespass: on the one hand actual life is always the material, and on the other hand an abstraction from actual life is a necessary condition to the creation of the work of art.

I can show you fear in a handful of dust.

The more perfect the artist the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates.

For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

The majority of mankind is lazy-minded, incurious, absorbed in vanities, and tepid in emotion, and is therefore incapable of either much doubt or much faith.

And so each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate.

We aim at experience in the particular centres in which alone it is evil. We avoid classification. We do not deny it. But when a man is classified something is lost.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;Her coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.

Knowledge is invariably a matter of degree: you cannot put your finger upon even the simplest datum and say this we know.

In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

At the moments when the public's interest is aroused, the public is never well informed enough to have the right to an opinion.

To make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

Heretic ... is a person who seizes upon a truth and pushes it to the point at which it becomes a falsehood.

Truth on our level is a different thing from truth for the jellyfish.

Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them. There is no third.

As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill.

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

We had the experience but missed the meaning.

Of course one can ‘go too far' and except in directions in which we can go too far there is no interest in going at all; and only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out just how far one can go. Not to go far enough is to remain ‘in the vague' as surely and less creditably than to exceed.

I have gone at dusk through narrow streets and watched the smoke that rises from the pipes of lonely men leaning out of windows.

No artist produces great art by a deliberate attempt to express his personality. He expresses his personality indirectly through concentrating upon a task which is a task in the same sense as the making of an efficient engine or the turning of a jug or a table-leg.

Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird meaning death.

In a world of fugitives, the person taking the opposite direction will appear to run away.

Death! I had not thought Death had undone so many.

Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.

Many people give the appearance of progress by shedding the prejudices and irrational postulates of one generation only to acquire those of the next.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn.

In my beginning is my end.