A Quote by William Watson

On from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I. — © William Watson
On from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I.
if you live in New York and you have a guest room, you have guests. So I think it's best not to have a guest room.
No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.
If the guests want to wrest the check away from the host, because the host is also the guest of honor, then the guest who volunteers has to cover the whole thing. A guest can't volunteer -all- of the guests to pay for the host/honoree.
There are many nations that have perfected a particular room. You know, you have the French drawing-room, the Austrian ball room, the German dining room, and I think the library is a room the English get right.
Wouldst thou wisely, and with pleasure, Pass the days of life's short measure, From the slow one counsel take, But a tool of him ne'er make; Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
You know what, I think maybe it's because men like to fart, and the host wants to be able to sit in his writers' room and just pass gas freely. Me, I'm a lady. I'm dainty. I know to get up and leave the room and go to my office.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
One of the traps of auditioning is walking into that room feeling as though you're a guest in someone's house, and being really careful not to spill wine on the carpet. What you have to do is walk in there as though you're the host.
I. At Tea THE kettle descants in a cosy drone, And the young wife looks in her husband's face, And then in her guest's, and shows in her own Her sense that she fills an envied place; And the visiting lady is all abloom, And says there was never so sweet a room. And the happy young housewife does not know That the woman beside her was his first choice, Till the fates ordained it could not be so.... Betraying nothing in look or voice The guest sits smiling and sips her tea, And he throws her a stray glance yearningly.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
In a world of fixed future, life is an infinite corridor of rooms, one room lit at each moment, the next room dark but prepared. We walk from room to room, look into the room that is lit, the present moment, then walk on. We do not know the rooms ahead, but we know we cannot change them. We are spectators of our lives.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.
Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy;Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
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