The greater man the greater courtesy.

The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.

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.

But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.

And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.

The jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.