Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Man is the hunter; women are the game; those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins; they love us for it, and we ride them down.

No man ever got very high by pulling other people down. The intelligent merchant does not knock his competitors. The sensible worker does not work those who work with him. Don't knock your friends. Don't knock your enemies. Don't knock yourself.

All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.