Science grows and Beauty dwindles.

You may tell me that my hand and foot are only imaginary symbols of my existence. I could believe you, but you never, never can convince me that the I is not an eternal reality, and that the spiritual is not the true and real part of me.

We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.

Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.

And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell.

So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not

A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.