He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.
Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.