I have had playmates, I have had companions; In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

We encourage one another in mediocrity.

The light that lies In woman's eyes.

Our spirits grow gray before our hairs.

Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.

I never knew an enemy to puns who was not an ill-natured man.

I mean your borrowers of books - those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes.