The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence..

. . . word-sniffing . . . is an addiction, like glue -- or snow -- sniffing in a somewhat less destructive way, physically if not economically. . . .….

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those..

There are as many pillows of illusion as flakes in a snow-storm. We wake from one dream into another dream..

Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know.