We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling

A Stiff Letter Galls One Like A Stiff Shirt Collar -- Whilst A Sheet Garnished Here And There With A Careless Blot -- And Here And There A Dash -- But In The Main Full Of Excellent Matter, Is Like A Clever Fellow In A Dirty Shirt Whom We Value For The Good Humour He Brings With Him And Not For The Garb He Wears.

Whoever Benefits His Enemy With Straightforward Intention That Man's Enemies Will Soon Fold Their Hands In Devotion.

White Swan Of Cities Slumbering In Thy Nest . . . White Phantom City, Whose Untrodden Streets Are Rivers, And Whose Pavements Are The Shifting Shadows Of The Palaces And Strips Of Sky.

The Love Of Learning, The Sequestered Nooks, And All The Sweet Serenity Of Books.

Oh, What A Glory Doth This World Put On, For Him Who With A Fervent Heart Goes Forth Under The Bright And Glorious Sky, And Looks On Duties Well Performed, And Days Well Spent.