The loss of these tastes [for poetry and music] is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.

The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.

My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once a week.

Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.

One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.