On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some to others they are dumb.

In Fleet Street, in Fleet Street, the People are so fleet, They barely touch the cobble-stones with their nimble feet!

All the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

Of troubles know I none, Of pleasures know I many - I rove beneath the sun, Without a single penny.

Women are so strangely constructed that they have in them darkness as well as light, though it be but a little curtain hung across the sun. And love is the hand that takes the curtain down, a stronger hand than fear, which hung it up. For all the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

Upon your shattered ruins where, This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

Cats sleep Anywhere, Any table, Any chair, Top of piano, Window-ledge, In the middle, On the edge.

We do not lose our friends when they die, we only lose sight of them.

It always gives me a shiver when I see a cat seeing what I can't see.

There's Carol like a rolling car, And Martin like a flying bird, And Adam like the Lord's First Word, And Raymond like the Harvest Moon, And Peter like a piper's tune, And Alan like the flowing on Of water. And there's John, like John.

It seems to me there are no rules, only instances but perhaps that is because I learned no rules, and am only an instance myself.

In love there are no penalties and no payments, and what is given is indistinguishable from what is received.