The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.

It's better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried

There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of precedent, that wilderness of single instances.

How fares it with the happy dead?

Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Better not be at all than not be noble.