Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product.Eleanor Roosevelt
- A young Apollo, golden-haired,
Stands dreaming on the verge of strife,
For the long littleness of life.
- "Youth", line 1; from Poems (Hampstead: Priory Press, 1910) p. 15.
- On Rupert Brooke.
- O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering-sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
- "To a Fat Lady Seen from the Train", line 3; from Poems (Hampstead: Priory Press, 1910) p. 20.
- Whoso maintains that I am humbled now
(Who wait the Awful Day) is still a liar;
I hope to meet my Maker brow to brow
And find my own the higher.
- "Epitaph for a Reviewer", line 1; from Collected Poems (London: Cresset Press, 1954) p. 112.