Literature Is A Splendid Mistress, But A

There Rise Her Timeless Capitals Of Empires Daily Born, Whose Plinths Are Laid At Midnight And Whose Streets Are Packed At Morn; And Here Come Tired Youths And Maids That Feign To Love Or Sin In Tones Like Rusty Razor Blades To Tunes Like Smitten Tin.

When The Cambrian Measures Were Forming, They Promised Perpetual Peace. They Swore, If We Gave Them Our Weapons, That The Wars Of The Tribes Would Cease. But When We Disarmed They Sold Us, And Delivered Us, Bound, To Our Foe, And The Gods Of The Copybook Headings Said: "stick To The Devil You Know."

Literature Is A Splendid Mistress, But A Bad Wife.

The First Condition Of Understanding A Foreign Country Is To Smell It.

No Doubt But Ye Are The People - Absolute, Strong And Wise; Whatever Your Hear Has Desired Ye Have Not Withheld From Your Eyes. On Your Own Heads, In Your Own Hands, The Sin And The Saving Lies!