The Only Way Round Is Through.

How Many Times It Thundered Before Franklin Took The Hint! How Many Apples Fell On Newton's Head Before He Took The Hint! Nature Is Always Hinting At Us. It Hints Over And Over Again. And Suddenly We Take The Hint.

The Middle Of The Road Is Where The White Line Is - And That's The Worst Place To Drive.

It Should Be Of The Pleasure Of A Poem Itself To Tell How It Can. The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom. The Figure Is The Same For Love.

Affection Is An Overpowering Craving To Be Compellingly Sought.

We Dance Round In A Ring And Suppose, But The Secret Sits In The Middle And Knows.