Persistent Prophecy Is A Familiar

Life, I Fancy, Would Very Often Be Insupportable, But For The Luxury Of Self Compassion.

And Why Should Any Man Who Writes, Even If He Writes Things Immortal, Nurse Anger At The World's Neglect? Who Asked Him To Publish? Who Promised Him A Hearing? Who Has Broken Faith With Him? Your Poem, Your Novel, Who Bargained With You For It?

I Am Much Better Employed From Every Point Of View, When I Live Solely For My Own Satisfaction, Than When I Begin To Worry About The World. The World Frightens Me, And A Frightened Man Is No Good For Anything.

Honest Winter, Snow Clad And With The Frosted Beard, I Can Welcome Not Uncordially; But That Long Deferment Of The Calendar's Promise, That Weeping Loom Of March And April, That Bitter Blast Outraging The Honor Of May - How Often Has It Robbed Me Of Heart And Hope.

To Like Keats Is A Test Of Fitness For Understanding Poetry, Just As To Like Shakespeare Is A Test Of General Mental Capacity.