Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.

Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.

Some people talk in their sleep. Lecturers talk while other people sleep.

Some people talk in their sleep. Lecturers talk while other people sleep.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

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.

If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams read more

If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of. - The Passing of Arthur.

Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.

Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.

Literary Men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

Literary Men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's read more

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die;Lord have mercy on us. - Song in Time of Pestilence.

'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of read more

'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes. - Don Quixote.