Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.

Every man, for the sake of the great blessed Mother in Heaven, and for the love of his own little mother on earth, should handle all womankind gently, and hold them in all Honor.

Blind and naked ignorance delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, on all things all day long

So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight

Cricket, however, has more in it than mere efficiency. There is something called the spirit of cricket, which cannot be defined.

Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.

Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.