I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.

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

But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.

And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

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.