A moment's thinking is an hour in words.
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.
When was ever honey made with one bee in a hive?
Fuss is the froth of business.
There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,- In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea, Or in the wide desert where no life is found.
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.