Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.

It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.

It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.

I thought I could not breathe in that fine air That pure severity of perfect light I yearned for warmth and colour which I found In Lancelot.

There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.