There is delight in singing, though none hear beside the singer.

There is delight in singing, though none hear beside the singer

The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.

I strove with none; for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart

No ashes are lighter than those of incense, and few things burn out sooner.

Men, like nails, lose their usefulness when they lose their direction and begin to bend.