As soon as they're out of your sight, you are out of their mind.

Now that cleverness was the fashion most people were clever - even perfect fools; and cleverness after all was often only a bore: all head and no body

Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour

After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts - like a Chinese nest of boxes - oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front - in our ancestors, back and back until.

An hour's terror is better than a lifetime of timidity.

It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.

Oh, pity the poor glutton Whose troubles all begin In struggling on and on to turn What's out into what's in.