to have our tattle done by machinery
     To hope, and not be impatient, is really to believe
     To the rest of the world he was a progressive comedy
     To kill the deer and be sorry for the suffering wretch is common
     Too prompt, too full of personal relish of his point
     Twice a bad thing to turn sinners loose
     Unseemly hour—­unbetimes
     Vessel was conspiring to ruin our self-respect
     War is only an exaggerated form of duelling
     Was I true?  Not so very false, yet how far from truth! 
     We has long overshadowed “I”
     What a man hates in adversity is to see ‘faces’
     What else is so consolatory to a ruined man? 
     Who beguiles so much as Self? 
     Who so intoxicated as the convalescent catching at health? 
     Who shuns true friends flies fortune in the concrete
     Winter mornings are divine.  They move on noiselessly
     Would he see what he aims at? let him ask his heels
     You may learn to know yourself through love
     You may learn to know yourself through love