Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pluck blackberrie… - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God.

What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?

I am one who could have forgotten the plague, listening to Boccaccio's stories; and I am not ashamed of it.

And then people ask me what I mean in [words torn out]. I hope you were among the six who understood or half understood my ‘Poet’s Vow’ — that is, if you read it at all. Uncle Hedley made a long pause at the first part. But I have been reading, too, Sheridan Knowles’s play of the ‘Wreckers.’ It is full of passion and pathos, and made me shed a great many tears.