Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.

Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?

All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.

The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.

A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.

Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.

Trust me not at all, or all in all.