"It is a misfortune, in some senses: I feed too much on the inward sources; I live too much with the dead. My mind is something like the ghost of an ancient, wandering about the world and trying mentally to construct it as it used to be, in spite of ruin and confusing changes."
"'You are a poem--and that is to be the best part of a poet--what makes up the poet's consciousness in his best moods,' said Will, showing such originality as we all share with the morning and the spring-time and other endless renewals."
"Two people persistently flirting could by no means escape from 'the various entanglements, weights, blows, clashings, motions, by which things severally go on."
"As the sore palate findeth grit, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes."
Monday, March 23, 2009
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