Pain is filtered in a poem so that it becomes finally, in the end, pleasure.

Therein lies the defect of revenge: it's all in the anticipation; the thing itself is a pain, not a pleasure; at least the pain is the biggest end of it.

To the poet, his travels, his adventures, his loves, his indignations are finally resolved in verse, and this, in the end becomes his permanent, indestructible life.

Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.

In the end, you're measured not by how much you undertake but by what you finally accomplish.

In the end, crime doesn't pay.