Untwisting All The Chains That

They Also Serve Who Only Stand And Wait.

I Cannot Praise A Fugitive And Cloistered Virtue, Unexercised And Unbreathed, That Never Sallies Out And Sees Her Adversary, But Slinks Out Of The Race Where That Immortal Garland Is To Be Run For, Not Without Dust And Heat.

Seasoned Life Of Man Preserved And Stored Up In Books.

Farewell Happy Fields, Where Joy Forever Dwells: Hail, Horrors, Hail.

Our Cure, To Be No More; Sad Cure!