Dim With The Mist Of Years, Gray

There Is, In Fact, No Law Or Government At All; And It Is Wonderful How Well Things Go On Without Them.

None Are So Desolate But Something Dear, Dearer Than Self, Possesses Or Possess'd A Thought, And Claims The Homage Of A Tear.

Men Love In Haste, But They Detest At Leisure.

For A Man To Become A Poet (witness Petrarch And Dante), He Must Be In Love, Or Miserable.

The Place Is Very Well And Quiet And The Children Only Scream In A Low Voice.