Cities, Like Cats, Will Reveal Themselves At

I Thought When Love For You Died, I Should Die. It's Dead. Alone, Most Strangely, I Live On.

Proud, Then, Clear-eyed And Laughing, Go To Greet Death As A Friend!

The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom Passion Rules.

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is For Ever England.

I Shall Desire And I Shall Find The Best Of My Desires; The Autumn Road, The Mellow Wind That Soothes The Darkening Shires. And Laughter, And Inn-fires.