Authority forgets a dying king.
A day may sink or save a realm.
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.
By blood a king, in heart a clown.
All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.
The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.
Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle and grin at our brother's shame; however you take it we men are a little breed.