Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.

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

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

He is all fault who has no fault at all.

O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.