I like the poets whose writings reveal great moral character and passion–such as Tennyson and some of Browning. The works of others have light, but I prefer flame to light. Shakespeare? A mind as clear as a sunbeam–but passionless, light without heat. Shelley? Keats? There’s a sense in which they were perfect poets, but they don’t move me. Beautiful–but wordmongers. There’s an infinite difference between the beauty of holiness and the holiness of beauty. One leads to the highest, loftiest, most Godlike character; the other often–too often–lead to an orgy of sensation.

- Samuel Brengle, from his biography by C.W. Hall, 269.