A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.

To love all ages yield surrender; But to the young it's raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.

Sad that our finest aspiration, Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.

It's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn.

Fearing no insult, asking for no crown, receive with indifference both flattery and slander, and do not argue with a fool.

Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.

A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.