“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.”
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Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
Is it not odd that the only generous person I ever knew, who had money to be generous with, should be a stockbroker.
We look before and after, And pine for what is not Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Change is certain. Peace is followed by disturbances departure of evil men by their return. Such recurrences should not constitute occasions for sadness but realities for awareness, so that one may be happy in the interim.
