Come To Me In My Dreams, And

The Nice Sense Of Measure Is Certainly Not One Of Nature's Gifts To Her English Children ... We Have All Of Us Yielded To Infatuation At Some Moment Of Our Lives.

Still Bent To Make Some Port He Knows Not Where, Still Standing For Some False Impossible Shore.

To Thee Only God Granted A Heart Ever New: To All Always Open; To All Always True.

However, If I Shall Live To Be Eighty I Shall Probably Be The Only Person Left In England Who Reads Anything But Newspapers And Scientific Publications.

All Knowledge Is Interesting To A Wise Man, And The Knowledge Of Nature Is Interesting To All Men.