If "ifs" and "ands" were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers' hands

So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again;Ancient and holy things fade like a dream.

Every winter, When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay- Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.

All but God is changing day by day.

If "ifs" and "ands" were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers' hands

Nature's deepest laws, her only true laws, are her invisible ones.

Except a living man, there is nothing more wonderful than a book.