Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.
It seems as if an age of genius must be succeeded by an age of endeavour; riot and extravagance by cleanliness and hard work.
When two people have been married for years they seem to become unconscious of each other's bodily presence so that they move as if alone, speak aloud things which they do not expect to be answered, and in general seem to experience all the comfort of solitude without its loneliness.
All the same that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park...then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was! -- that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.
I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
We are swept on by the torrent of things grown so familiar that they cast no shadow. We float, we float...