This laurel greener from the brows Of him that uttered nothing base.

Well, Gosse, would you like to know what I think of Churton Collins? I think he's a Louse on the Locks of Literature.

And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.

Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it, A barbarous people, Blind to the magic, And deaf to the melody, Snarl'd at and cursed me. A demon vext me, The light…

You have committed one of the greatest stupidities - for yourself and for me! Your association with an anti-Semitic chief expresses a foreignness to my whole w…

What is left when honor is lost?

Honor has not to be won; it must only not be lost.