Humor Is Also A Way

The Bad Poet Is Usually Unconscious Where He Ought To Be Conscious, And Conscious Where He Ought To Be Unconscious.

When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly And Paces About Her Room Again, Alone, She Smooths Her Hair With Automatic Hand, And Puts A Record On The Gramophone.

There Is, It Seems To Us, At Best, Only A Limited Value In The Knowledge Derived From Experience.

The Business Of The Poet Is Not To Find New Emotions, But To Use The Ordinary Ones And, In Working Them Up Into Poetry, To Express Feelings Which Are Not In Actual Emotions At All.

And Now You Live Dispersed On Ribbon Roads, And No Man Knows Or Cares Who Is His Neighbor Unless His Neighbor Makes Too Much Disturbance, But All Dash To And Fro In Motor Cars, Familiar With The Roads And Settled Nowhere.