A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace
Slowly, silently, now the moon / Walks the night in her silver shoon.
All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat.
Three jolly Farmers / Once bet a pound / Each dance the other would / Off the ground.
Life's troubled bubble broken
Ann, Ann! / Come! quick as you can! / There's a fish that talks / In the frying pan.
Very old are we men; / Our dreams are tales / Told in dim Eden / By Eve's nightingales.
Has anybody seen my Mopser? - / A comely dog is he, / With hair the colour of a Charles the Fifth, / And teeth like ships at sea.
It's a very odd thing / As odd as can be / That whatever Miss T. eats / Turns into Miss T.
Since that all things thou wouldst praise / Beauty took from those who loved them / In other days.
It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave.
Who said, 'All Time's delightHath she for narrow bed;Life's troubled bubble broken'? ---That's what I said.
God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.
It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.
Hi! handsome hunting manFire your little gun.Bang! Now the animalis dead and dumb and done.Nevermore to peep again, creep again, leap again,Eat or sleep or drink again. Oh, what fun!