By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day.

It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same for love.

The world is full of willing people; some willing to work, the rest willing to let them.

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

I hate the idea that you ought to read the whole of anybody.

If the day ever comes when they know who They are, they may know better where they are.

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.