Then Farewell, Horace; Whom I Hated So,

We Are All Selfish And I No More Trust Myself Than Others With A Good Motive.

Oh That The Desert Were My Dwelling-place, With One Fair Spirit For My Minister

For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than Fiction.

Friendship May, And Often Does, Grow Into Love, But Love Never Subsides Into Friendship.

The English Winter - Ending In July To Recommence In August