With one day's reading a man may have the key in his hands.

Song in the Manner of Housman" O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. Woe! woe, etcetera.... London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera.

What thou lovest well remains.

The real trouble with war (modern war) is that it gives no one a chance to kill the right people.

Literature is news that stays news.

When two men in business always agree, one of them is unnecessary.

Colloquial poetry is to the real art as the barber's wax dummy is to sculpture.