Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,/ Whether the summer clothe the general earth/ With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing / Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch / Of mossy apple tree.

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall, Heard only in the trances of the blast, Of if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

Poetry: the best words in the best order.

I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose = words in their best order; poetry = the best words in the best order

If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awake - Aye, what then?

I know the Bible is inspired because it finds me at greater depths of my being than any other book