In Solitude, Where We Are

The Premises Are So Delightfully Extensive, That Two People Might Live Together Without Ever Seeing, Hearing Or Meeting.

Shakespeare's Name, You May Depend On It, Stands Absurdly Too High And Will Go Down.

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

The English Winter - Ending In July To Recommence In August

For A Man To Become A Poet (witness Petrarch And Dante), He Must Be In Love, Or Miserable.