Most Progress Is Most Failure.

When A Man's Busy, Why Leisure Strikes Him As Wonderful Pleasure: 'faith, And At Leisure Once Is He? Straightway He Wants To Be Busy.

What's A Man's Age? He Must Hurry More, That's All; Cram In A Day, What His Youth Took A Year To Hold.

Poetry, Like Love, Is Something We Never Truly Say Goodbye To.

A Man In Armour Is His Armour's Slave.

What I Aspired To Be And Was Not, Comforts Me.