Strange that only a little problem of your own will take your mind far from a tragedy belonging to others.

Glorious is the Voice of Man, and sweet is the music of the harp.

O, blackberry tart, with berries as big as your thumb, purple and black, and thick with juice, and a crust to endear them that will go to cream in your mouth, and both passing down with such a taste that will make you close your eyes and wish you might live forever in the wideness of that rich moment.

A man will never know a woman until he knows her work.

Strange that only a little problem of your own will take your mind far from a tragedy belonging to others.

There is no fence or hedge round time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might.