The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.

I have need to busy my heart with quietude.

I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation. These I shall have.

If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.

Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one who swam ere rivers were begun, immense of fishy form and mind, squamous omnipotent, and kind.

Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.