Poetry is like fish: if it's fresh, it's good if it's stale, it's bad and if you're not certain, try it on the cat.

In reality, killing time is only the name for another of the multifarious ways by which Time kills us.

The only difference between an artist and a lunatic is, perhaps, that the artist has the restraint or courtesy to conceal the intensity of his obsession from all except those similarly afflicted.

For forty days he went out into the desert - and never shot anything [on Jesus]

I have always said that if I were a rich man, I would employ a professional praiser.

Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us.

Hell has a climate, but no situation. It lies in the spirit, and not in space.

My education [takes place] during the holidays from Eton.

We attended stables, as we attended church, in our best clothes, thereby no doubt showing the degree of respect due to horses.

It is fatal to be appreciated in one's own time.

Heroic figures are now obsolete,So Demigod and Devil find retreatIn minds of children - as rare beasts and men,Elsewhere extinct, persist in hill or fenFrom man protected - where each form assumesGigantic stature and intention, loomsFrom wind-moved, twilight-woven histories:For them each flower teems with mysteries.

How simple-minded of the Germans to imagine that we British could be cowed by the destruction of our ancient monuments! As though any havoc of the German bombs could possibly equal the things we have done ourselves!

A golf course outside a big town serves an excellent purpose in that it segregates, as though a concentration camp, all the idle and idiot well-to-do.