Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
The footpath down to the well is healed.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
If society fits you comfortably enough, you call it freedom.
He says the best way out is always through. / And I can agree to that, or in so far / As that I can see no way out but through