You are the music while the music lasts.

All significant truths are private truths. As they become public they cease to become truths; they become facts, or at best, part of the public character; or at worst, catchwords.

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

Hurry up, please, its time.

In a world of fugitives the one who stays home will seem to be running away

Before a Cat will condescend To treat you as a trusted friend, Some little token of esteem Is needed, like a dish of cream; And you might now and then supply Some caviare, or Strassburg Pie, Some potted grouse, or salmon paste — He's sure to have his personal taste. (I know a Cat, who makes a habit Of eating nothing else but rabbit, And when he's finished, licks his paws So's not to waste the onion sauce.) A Cat's entitled to expect These evidences of respect. And so in time you reach your aim, And finally call him by his name.