Sublime

Call me Ishmael.

“Oh Lord, we beseech thee . . . direct our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God.”

Be thy heart a well of love, my child, Flowing, and free, and sure; For a cistern of love, though undefiled, Keeps not the spirit pure.

You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD,

Someone asked once, “What is love?” “Be lost in me,” I said.

he is a poet in this real sense, that he has realised the meaning of every function he has performed.

That weakness is splendidly expressed in one of his finest poems, “The Sestina of the Tramp Royal,” in which a man declares that he can endure anything in the way of hunger or horror, but not permanent presence in one place.

He was the voice in England of this humane intoxication and expansion, this encouraging of anybody to be anything. His best books are a carnival of liberty,

For I am the LORD your God, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar— the LORD of hosts is his name.