Some Had Rather Lose Their Friend Then

Who Says That Fictions Only And False Hair Become A Verse? Is There In Truth No Beauty? Is All Good Structure In A Winding Stair?

If Thou Thy Selfe Canst Doe It, Attend No Others Helpe Or Hand.

I Envy No Man's Nightingale Or Spring; Nor Let Them Punish Me With Loss Of Rhyme, Who Plainly Say, My God, My King.

Lord! Who Hath Praise Enough?

If We Can Possibly Avoid Wrecking This Little Planet Of Ours, We Will, But-there Must Be Risks! There Must Be. In Experimental Work There Always Are!