Aware that his disappointment has its source in a defective education, he looks with anxiety on his other daughters, whose minds, like lovely buds, are beginning to open. Where shall he find a genial soil in which he may place them to expand?
There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.
What we now call 'finance' is, I hold, an intellectual perversion of what began as warm human love.
Marriage, like money, is still with us; and, like money, progressively devalued.
If there's no money in poetry, neither is there poetry in money.
