Till Human Voices Wake Us,

If We Are Moved By A Poem, It Has Meant Something, Perhaps Something Important, To Us; If We Are Not Moved, Then It Is, As Poetry, Meaningless.

In The Room The Women Come And Go Talking Of Michelangelo.

Art Never Improves, But... The Material Of Art Is Never Quite The Same.

Success Is Relative. It Is What We Make Of The Mess We Have Made Of Things.

I Think It Was Rather An Advantage Not Having Any Living Poets In England Or America In Whom One Took Any Particular Interest. I Don't Know What It Would Be Like But I Think It Would Be A Rather Troublesome Distraction To Have Such A Lot Of Dominating Presences, As You Call Them, About. Fortunately We Weren't Bothered By Each Other.