Hearts At Peace, Under An English Heaven.

.. . . Would I Were In Grantchester, In Grantchester!

Youth Is Stranger Than Fiction.

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is Forever England. There Shall Be In That Rich Earth A Richer Dust Concealed; A Dust Whom England Bore, Shaped, Made Aware, Gave, Once, Her Flowers To Love, Her Ways To Roam, A Body Of England's, Breathing English Air, Washed By The Rivers, Blest By Suns Of Home.

Just Now The Lilac Is In Bloom All Before My Little Room.

The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom Passion Rules.