It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
Love is the only gold.
Manners are not idle, but the fruit of loyal and of noble mind.
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?