Youth Is Stranger Than Fiction.

Incredibly, Inordinately, Devastatingly, Immortally, Calamitously, Hearteningly, Adorably Beautiful.

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is For Ever England.

A Book May Be Compared To Your Neighbor: If It Be Good, It Cannot Last Too Long; If Bad, You Cannot Get Rid Of It Too Early.

Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire Of Watching For You; And Swing Me Suddenly Into The Shade And Loneliness And Mire Of The Last Land!

Stands The Church Clock At Ten To Three? And Is There Honey Still For Tea?