But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.

As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow; Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.

Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.

I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.