O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty part, With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall, Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall.

What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these? Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to golden keys. Every gate is thronged with s…

Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings, That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

The attitude of foreign to English musicians is unsympathetic, self-opinionated and pedantic. They believe that their tradition is the only one (this is specia…

That's why my girlfriend and I broke up: she wanted kids, and I : well, she wanted kids. [laughs] I had no idea her philosophy was that flawed. She goes, 'Woul…

When I behold this I sighed, and said within myself, 'Surely mortal man is a broomstick!' Nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving condit…