The Ocean Moans Over Dead Men's Bones.

It Is The Lord's Day, And I Do Believe That Cheerful Hearts And Faces Are Not Unpleasant In His Sight.

Books That Have Become Classics - Books That Have Had Their Day And Now Get More Praise Than Perusal - Always Remind Me Of Retired Colonels And Majors And Captains Who, Having Reached The Age Limit, Find Themselves Retired On Half Pay.

What Is Lovely Never Dies, But Passes Into Other Loveliness, Star-dust, Or Sea-foam, Flower Or Winged Air.

I Like To Have A Thing Suggested Rather Than Told In Full. When Every Detail Is Given, The Mind Rests Satisfied, And The Imagination Loses The Desire To Use Its Own Wings.

Civilization Is The Lamb's Skin In Which Barbarism Masquerades.