Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure.
But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame's to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I'll be there.
I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.