“Now I have a sheep and cow, everybody bids me good morrow.”

“What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.No time to stand beneath the boughsAnd stare as long as sheep or cows.”

“Nowhere can I think so happily as in a train. I am not inspired; nothing so uncomfortable as that. I am never seized with a sudden idea for a masterpiece, nor form a sudden plan for some new enterprise. My thoughts are just pleasantly reflective. I think of all the good deeds I have done, and (when these give out) of all the good deeds I am going to do. I look out of the window and say lazily to myself, “How jolly to live there”; and a little farther on, “How jolly not to live there.” I see a cow, and I wonder what it is like to be a cow, and I wonder whether the cow wonders what it is to be like me; and perhaps, by this time, we have passed on to a sheep, and I wonder if it is more fun being a sheep. My mind wanders on in a way which would annoy Pelman a good deal, but it wanders on quite happily, and the “clankety-clank” of the train adds a very soothing accompaniment. So soothing, indeed, that at any moment I can close my eyes and pass into a pleasant state of sleep.”

“When you get beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”“Are you saying that you are a cow?”“Exactly.”“What?”“You found me alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?”“Yes, I see. You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.”

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

“On the morrow he will leave me as my hopes have flown before.”