As Good Play For Nothing, You Know,

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

Every Hour Has Its End.

Although Too Much Of A Soldier Among Sovereigns, No One Could Claim With Better Right To Be A Sovereign Among Soldiers.

Nothing Is More Completely The Child Of Art Than A Garden.

Though Varying Wishes, Hopes, And Fears, Fever'd The Progress Of These Years, Yet Now, Days, Weeks, And Months But Seem The Recollection Of A Dream.