For Eager Teachers Seized My Youth, Pruned

The Nice Sense Of Measure Is Certainly Not One Of Nature's Gifts To Her English Children ... We Have All Of Us Yielded To Infatuation At Some Moment Of Our Lives.

Have Something To Say, And Say It As Clearly As You Can. That Is The Only Secret.

Coldly, Sadly Descends The Autumn Evening. The Field Strewn With Its Dank Yellow Drifts Of Wither'd Leaves, And The Elms, Fade Into Dimness Apace, Silent; Hardly A Shout From A Few Boys Late At Their Play!

We Cannot Kindle When We Will The Fire Which In The Heart Resides, The Spirit Bloweth And Is Still, In Mystery Our Soul Abides: But Tasks In Hours Of Insight Will'd Can Be Through Hours Of Gloom Fulfill'd.

Ah Love, Let Us Be True To One Another, Which Seems To Lie Before Us Like A Land Of Dreams; So Various, So Beautiful, So New, Hath Really Neither Joy Nor Love Nor Life.