Better not be at all than not be noble.

I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.

The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.

O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

The greater man the greater courtesy.