I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul

He is all fault who has no fault at all.

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.

From yon blue heavens above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.

What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.

Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.