Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom Nor forced him wander, but confine him home.

Strafford who was hurried hence / 'Twixt treason and convenience.

Love melts the rigor which the rocks have bred; a flint will break upon a feather bed.

The marigold, whose courtier's face echoes the sun, and doth unlace her at his rise, at his full stop packs and shuts up her gaudy shop.

When I was a child in Scotland, I was fond of everything that was wild, and all my life I've been growing fonder and fonder of wild places and wild creatures. Fortunately, around my native town of Dunbar, by the stormy North Sea, there was no lack of wildness...

Alan Campbell opened one eye.

From somewhere in remote distances, muffled beyond sight or sound, his soul crawled back painfully, through subterranean corridors, up into his body again. Toward the last it moved to a cacophony of hammers and lights.

Then he was awake.

The first eye was bad enough. But, when he opened his second eye, such as rush of anguish flowed through his brain that he hastily closed them again.