“Shall memory restoreThe steps and the shore,The face and the meeting place;”

“Warm are the still and lucky miles,White shores of longing stretch away,A light of recognition fillsThe whole great day, and brightThe tiny world of lovers' arms.Silence invades the breathing woodWhere drowsy limbs a treasure keep,Now greenly falls the learned shadeAcross the sleeping browsAnd stirs their secret to a smile.Restored! Returned! The lost are borneOn seas of shipwreck home at last:See! In a fire of praising burnsThe dry dumb past, and weOur life-day long shall part no more.”

“There's always another story. There's more than meets the eye.”

“O stand, stand at the window As the tears scald and start;You shall love your crooked neighbour With your crooked heart.”

“Say this city has ten million souls,Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, yet there’s no place for us.”

“My face looks like a wedding cake left out in the rain.”

“There must always be two kinds of art: escape-art, for man needs escape as he needs food and deep sleep, and parable-art, that art which shall teach man to unlearn hatred and learn love.”