A Wanderer Is Man From

For Poetry The Idea Is Everything; The Rest Is A World Of Illusion, Of Divine Illusion. Poetry Attaches Its Emotion To The Idea; The Idea Is The Fact. The Strongest Part Of Our Religion Today Is Its Unconscious Poetry.

The Working-class Is Now Issuing From Its Hiding-place To Assert An Englishman's Heaven-born Privilege Of Doing As He Likes, And Is Beginning To Perplex Us By Marching Where It Likes, Meeting Where It Likes, Bawling What It Likes, Breaking What It Likes.

Come To Me In My Dreams, And Then By Day I Shall Be Well Again. For Then The Night Will More Than Pay The Hopeless Longing Of The Day.

Wandering Between Two Worlds, One Dead, The Other Powerless To Be Born.

It Is A Very Great Thing To Be Able To Think As You Like; But, After All, An Important Question Remains: What You Think.