O what fine thought we had because we thought that the worst rogues and rascals had died out.

My wretched dragon is perplexed.

In dreams begins responsibility.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

I have grown to believe that there is no dangerous idea, which does not become less dangerous when written out in sincere and careful English.

A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.

All the wild-witches, those most notable ladies For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.