There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.

There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.

A novel is a mirror carried along a main road.

A novel is a mirror carried along a main road.

We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have read more

We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have suffered the pain of loss, and the more wearing, continuous pain of frustration and failure; and have had moods of unlooked-for release and peace. They have known and watched in themselves and others.

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe read more

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe --though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

Memory [is] like a purse,--if it be over-full that it cannot
shut, all will drop out of it. Take read more

Memory [is] like a purse,--if it be over-full that it cannot
shut, all will drop out of it. Take heed of a gluttonous
curiosity to feed on many things, lest the greediness of the
appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion thereof.

Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.

Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.

Memory is the mother of all wisdom.

Memory is the mother of all wisdom.

I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have read more

I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have loved at all. - In Memoriam.