Without Music I Should Wish To Die.

We Think-although Of Course, Now, We Very Seldom Clearly Think- That The Other Side Of War Is Peace.

Gently They Go, The Beautiful, The Tender, The Kind; Quietly They Go, The Intelligent, The Witty, The Brave. I Know. But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.

I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart, And Not The Full Four Seasons Of The Year; And You Must Welcome From Another Part Such Noble Moods As Are Not Mine, My Dear. No Gracious Weight Of Golden Fruits To Sell Have I, Nor Any Wise And Wintry Thing; And I Have Loved You All Too Long And Well To Carry Still The High Sweet Breast Of Spring. Wherefore I Say: O Love, As Summer Goes, I Must Be Gone, Steal Forth With Silent Drums, That You May Hail Anew The Bird And Rose When I Come Back To You, As Summer Comes. Else Will You Seek, At Some Not Distant Time, Even Your Summer In Another Clime.

Listen, Children: Your Father Is Dead. From His Old Coats I'll Make You Little Jackets; I'll Make You Little Trousers From His Old Pants. There'll Be In His Pockets Things He Used To Put There, Keys And Pennies Covered With Tobacco; Dan Shall Have The Pennies To Save In His Bank; Anne Shall Have The Keys To Make A Pretty Noise With. Life Must Go On, Though Good Men Die; Anne, Eat Your Breakfast; Dan, Take Your Medicine; Life Must Go On; I Forget Just Why.

Life In Itself Is Nothing, An Empty Cup, A Flight Of Uncarpeted Stairs.