Of All The Reports That Fly About

Every Spring Is The Only Spring, A Perpetual Astonishment.

If Ever You Do Go Back, What Is It You Want Of Evesham?" "do I Know? [...] The Silence, It Might Be ... Or The Stillness. To Have No More Running To Do ... To Have Arrived, And Have No More Need To Run. The Appetite Changes. Now I Think It Would Be A Beautiful Thing To Be Still.

Of All The Reports That Fly About The World, Ill News Is The Surest Of All To Arrive!

One Century's Saint Is The Next Century's Heretic ... And One Century's Heretic Is The Next Century's Saint. It Is As Well To Think Long And Calmly Before Affixing Either Name To Any Man.

You'll Never Get To Be A Saint If You Deny The Bit Of The Devil In You.