When one is deprived of ones liberty, one is right in blaming not so much the man who puts the shackles on as the one who had the power to prevent him, but did not use it.
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When getting my nose in a book. Cured most things short of school, It was worth ruining my eyes. To know I could still keep cool, And deal out the old right hook. To dirty dogs twice my size. Later, with inch-thick specs, Evil was just my lark: Me and my coat and fangs. Had ripping times in the dark. The women I clubbed with sex! I broke them up like meringues. Don't read much now: the dude. Who lets the girl down before. The hero arrives, the chap. Who's yellow and keeps the store. Seem far...
Philip Larkin