For dear me, why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true
A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look
If the writer does not cry, the reader does not cry.
The ear is the only true writer and the only true reader.
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
If one by one we counted people out