"It's coming soon and soon, mother, it's nearer every day, When only men who work and sweat will have a word to say; When all who earn their honest bread in every land and soil Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of Toil; When we, the Workers, all demand: `What are we fighting for?' . . . Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness -- War."

"Mud is mankind in the moulding, Heaven's mystery unfolding"

"Wisdom is peace, peace wisdom. Both are born of a humble heart and a nourished gratitude."

"This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain: "Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane -- Strong for the red rage of battle; sane for I harry them sore; Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core"

"Dignity is a tin god in the temple of bunk."

"Nature is the nest professor in the end."

"After fifty don’t go to a funeral if you can avoid it. It’s bad enough to go to your own when times comes."

"Oh it is good to ride and run, To roam the reenwood wild and free; To hunt, to idle in the sun, To leap into the laughing sea"

"I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete; I cloister it from care and strife And keep it sane and sweet."

"Some praise the Lord for Light, The living spark; I thank God for the Night The healing dark."

"Marriage is a bachelor’s punishment for his sins"

"Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code."

"The world is full of scribbling Nobodies who think they’re scribbling Somebodies."

"Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway; From my ruthless throne I have ruled alone for a million years and a day"

"And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky."

"Too late I stayed,—forgive the crime! Unheeded flew the hours; How noiseless falls the foot of time That only treads on flowers."

"Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die, It's the keeping-on-living that's hard."

"Evil news fly faster still than good."

"In time the savage bull sustains the yoke, In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure, In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak, In time the flint is pierced with softest shower."

"Where words prevail not, violence prevails; But gold doth more than either of them both."

"What outcries pluck me from my naked bed And chill my throbbing heart with trembling fear."

"For see, the dapple-grey coursers of the morn Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs, And chase it through the sky."

"Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be surely full of variety; old crotchets and most sweet closes. It shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly, one in all, and all in one."

"Speak, speak, let terror strike slaves mute, Much danger makes great hearts most resolute."

"Who winks and shuts his apprehension up."

"Marston is a writer of great merit, who rose to tragedy from the ground of comedy, and whose forte was not sympathy, either with the stronger or softer emotions, but an impatient scorn and bitter indignation against the vices and follies of men, which vented itself either in comic irony or in lofty invective. He was properly a satirist."

"Foul canker of fair virtuous action, Vile blaster of the freshest blooms on earth, Envys abhorrèd child, Detraction, I here expose, to thy all-tainting breath, The issue of my brain: snarl, rail, bark, bite, Know that my spirit scorns Detraction's spite."

"No seed shall perish which the soul hath sown."

"Gods fade; but God abides and in man’s heart Speaks with the clear unconquerable cry Of energies and hopes that can not die."

"She smiled, and the shadows departed; She shone, and the snows were rain; And he who was frozen-hearted Bloomed up into love again."

"Shades are we; and of shades we weave A trifling pleasant make-believe; Then pass into the shadowy night, Where formless shades blindfold the light."

"These things shall be! A loftier race Than e'er the world hath known, shall rise With flame of freedom in their souls, And light of science in their eyes."

"My uncle [mother’s brother] wrote rather twee books of memoirs in the period between the two World Wars. They’d be deeply embarrassing to read today. In the 19th century my mother’s family were involved with the Pre-Raphaelites, and a direct ancestor of mine was Lady Byron’s lawyer, who advised her to leave the poet because of her husband’s affair with his half-sister. A much earlier ancestor on my mother’s side was chaplain to Richard Corbet, Bishop of Oxford, who wrote the poem ‘Farewell Rewards and Fairies’. In his ‘Brief Lives’ Aubrey describes them getting drunk together in the cellars of Christchurch, Oxford."

"It's ten years since I heard, and Then one day a letter comes. It's neutral stuff, until I Delve into the envelope Again and find your photo, Handsome still, and not a line To tell me why you sent it."

"A poet of my kind Skates on the thinnest ice."

"Labour for his pains."

"The maid who modestly conceals Her beauties, while she hides, reveals; Give but a glimpse, and fancy draws Whate’er the Grecian Venus was."

"But from the hoop’s bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound."

"But beauty has wings, and too hastily flies, And love, unrewarded, soon sickens and dies."

"Can’t I another’s face commend, And to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lours, As if her merit lessen’d yours?"

"I'll tell thee what it [the world] says: it calls me a villain: a treacherous husband; a cruel father; a false brother; one lost to nature and her charities; or, to say all in one short word, it calls me—gamester."

"This is adding insult to injuries."

"Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth."

"I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice."

"’Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them."

"In the content of his work it is interesting to notice that he is profoundly English. His romanticism, and his choice of the theme of Time and Age – both these look back to the Anglo-Saxons and forward to the nineteenth century. Yet his form is French. The heart is insular and romantic, the head cool and continental: it is a good combination."

"O moral Gower!"

"For loves lawe is out of reule."

"It hath and schal ben everemor That love is maister wher he wile."

"He hath the sor which no man heleth, The which is cleped lack of herte."