Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish in our own.

Happiness is the shadow of things past, Wich fools still take for that which is to be!

She went her unremembering way, She went and left in me The pang of all the partings gone, And partings yet to be.

I was heavy with the even, When she lit her glimmering tapers Round the day's dead sanctities. I laughed in the morning's eyes.

In attempts to improve your character, know what is in your power and what is beyond it.

The devil doesn't know how to sing, only how to howl.