Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.

That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.

Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.

A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.

A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.