How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!

How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!

But there are times when patience proves at fault.

A man in armour is his armour's slave.

A minute of success pays for years of failure.

Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.

Ignorance is not innocence but sin.