I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.

Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.

The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.

Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?

He makes no friend who never made a foe.

To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.

the shell must break before the bird can fly.