The only way out is through.

The sidelong glance is what you depend on.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~ And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

I would not come in. I meant not even if asked, And I hadn't been.

What are we? Young or new? We must be something.

Life must be kept up at a great rate in order to absorb any considerable amount of learning.

I never knew what was meant by choice of words. It was one word or none.