Roll On, Thou Deep And Dark Blue

Life Is Too Short For Chess.

Lovers May Be And Indeed Generally Are Enemies, But They Never Can Be Friends, Because There Must Always Be A Spice Of Jealousy And A Something Of Self In All Their Speculations.

Just As Old Age Is Creeping On Space, And Clouds Come O'er The Sunset Of Our Day, They Kindly Leave Us, Though Not Quite Alone, But In Good Company--the Gout Or Stone.

I Stood Among Them, But Not Of Them: In A Shroud Of Thoughts Which Were Not Their Thoughts.

A Rose With All Its Sweetest Leaves Yet Folded.