How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country`s wishes blest!
Prior to Wordsworth, humor was an essential part of poetry. I mean, they don`t call them Shakespeare comedies for nothing.
By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
When a writer becomes a reader of his or her own work, a lot can go wrong. It`s like do-it-yourself dentistry.
I think humor is a very serious thing. I use it as a way of weakening the reader`s defenses so that I can more easily take him to something more.
Beloved, till life can charm no more; And mourned, till Pity`s self be dead.
Words like feminism or democracy scare me. They are words with barnacles on them, and you can`t see what`s underneath.
In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.
Always mistrust a subordinate who never finds fault with his superior.