There are nine-and-sixty ways of constructing tribal lays, And every single one of them is right.

Let each man be judged by his deeds, I have paid my price to live with myself on the terms that I willed.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose, And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows.

Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent.

(An unhappy childhood was not) an unsuitable preparation for my future, in that it demanded a constant wariness, the habit of observation, and the attendance on moods and tempers; the noting of discrepancies between speech and action; a certain reserve of demeanour; and automatic suspicion of sudden favours.

They will come back, come back again, As long as the red earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think he would squander souls?

Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.