'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

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

It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.

Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.

One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!