Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flatter; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.
I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.