All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.

Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink.

April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

I will come back to you, I swear I will; And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.

A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.

So up I got in anger, And took a book I had, And put a ribbon on my hair To please a passing lad. And, "One thing there's no getting by -- I've been a wicked girl," said I; But if I can't be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!