That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again. – A.E. Housman
We for a certainty are not the first have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed whatever brute and blackguard made the world. – A.E. Housman
Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out…. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure. – A.E. Housman
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow. – A.E. Housman
Time has lost all meaning in that nightmare alley of the Western world known as the American mind. We wallow in nostalgia but manage to get it all wrong. True nostalgia is an ephemeral composition of disjointed memories… but American-style nostalgia is about as ephemeral as copyrighted d?j? vu. – Florence King