“The feast he spreads for us is a very Trimalchio's feast, the heaped profusion, the vaunting prodigality, which brings a surfeit.”

A witty complaint about excess dressed up as abundance · Critical essay on Francis Thompson

• Art
• Wit

“Have you ever thought of the frightful thing it is to shift one's centre? That is what it is to love a woman.”

His striking image for love as a relocation of the self's whole gravity · Critical essay on Keats, The Romantic Movement in English Poetry

• Love

“For nearly a year I have been normal, human, like other people, no longer isolated from the men and women whom I met in the street.”

An unusually tender admission of loneliness and its brief lifting · Prose introduction to poems written after the death of his dog

• Friendship
• Solitude