No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.

The end is in the beginning.

A prose that is altogether alive demands something of the reader that the ordinary novel reader is not prepared to give.

If you want it you must obtain it by great labor.

Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign?

The past and future / Are conquered, and reconciled.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?