Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.

Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

There's no glory like those who save their country.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.