Season Of Mists And Mellow Fruitfulness, Close

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.

Failure Is, In A Sense, The Highway To Success.

Every Fresh Experience Points Out Some Form Of Error Which We Shall Afterwards Carefully Avoid.

Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive.

It Can Be Said Of Him, When He Departed He Took A Man's Life With Him. No Sounder Piece Of British Manhood Was Put Together In That Eighteenth Century Of Time.