Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.

What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.

I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.

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

For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.