And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!

For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.

O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!

... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval world, high up. It seemed as if the cosmic order were gone, as if there had come a new order, a new heavens above us: and as if the world in anger were trying to revoke it.

But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.

When a king sets himself to bandy against the highest court and residence of all regal powers, he then, in the single person of a man, fights against his own majesty and kingship.