In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.