“The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.”
Tip: press → for another quote, C to copy, S to share.
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.
I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.