Man is man, and master of his fate.
O mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies, O skilled to sing of Time or Eternity, God-gifted organ-voice of England, Milton, a name to resound for ages.
A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.
Love will conquer at the last.
The greater man the greater courtesy.
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air That pure severity of perfect light I yearned for warmth and colour which I found In Lancelot.