I Say, Without Characters, Fame Lives Long.

You Are Made Rather To Wonder At The Things You Hear Than To Work Any.

This Royal Throne Of Kings, This Scepter'd Isle, This Earth Of Majesty, This Seat Of Mars, This Other Eden, Demi-paradise.

In Sweet Music Is Such Art: Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

How Is It That The Clouds Still Hang On You?

...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.