Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

I f thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love her for her smile ... her look ... her way Of speaking gently ... for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and, certes, brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee-and love so wrought, May be unwrought so.

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental.

The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed - and not for pay? Absurd - or insincere?