Better To Work And Fail Than To

I Love The Chill October Days, When The Brown Leaves Lie Thick And Sodden Underneath Your Feet ... The Evenings In Late Autumn Time, When The White Mist Creeps Across The Fields, Making It Seem As Though Old Earth, Feeling The Night Air Cold To Its Poor Bones, Were Drawing Ghostly Bedclothes Round Its Withered Limbs.

Seek Out Some Retired And Old-world Spot, Far From The Madding Crowd, And Dream Away A Sunny Week Among Its Drowsy Lanes - Some Half-forgotten Nook, Hidden Away By The Fairies, Out Of Reach Of The Noisy World - Some Quaint-perched Eyrie On The Cliffs Of Time, From Whence The Surging Waves Of The Nineteenth Century Would Sound Far-off And Faint.

Better To Work And Fail Than To Sleep One's Life Away.

I Will Not Take Up Your Time, Dear Boy, With Telling You What Is The Matter With Me. Life Is Brief, And You Might Pass Away Before I Had Finished. But I Will Tell You What Is Not The Matter With Me. I Have Not Got Housemaid’s Knee. Why I Have Not Got Housemaid’s Knee, I Cannot Tell You; But The Fact Remains That I Have Not Got It. Everything Else, However, I Have Got.

There Is No More Thrilling Sensation I Know Of Than Sailing. It Comes As Near To Flying As Man Has Got To Yet - Except In Dreams.