I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true.

For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.

The middle of the road is where the white line is - and that's the worst place to drive.

Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.

In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.

Humour is the most engaging cowardice. With it myself I have been able to hold some of my enemy in play far out of gunshot.