I can remember only a few of the strange and curious words now dead but living and spoken by the English people a thousand years ago.

Enough small empty boxes thrown into a big empty box fill it full.

Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.

I won't take my religion from any man who never works except with his mouth.

I cried over beautiful things, knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.

I stayed away from mathematics not so much because I knew it would be hard work as because of the amount of time I knew it would take, hours spent in a field where I was not a natural.