“He shook his head in wonder. "You are magnificent.""I keep telling everyone that," she said with a nonchalant shrug, "But you seem to be the only one to believe me.”

“For a long moment the butler sat in silence, his jaw hanging open. I . . . my lord, I simply don't feel qualified to advise you about such matters.Don't tell me that, Saint protested. Tell me wheth...”

“He was still thoughtful. 'Do you think any of us ever really knows anyone?' 'Philosophy, Lord Dryden? And yet it's daylight and everyone is still sober.”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”