All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.

All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.

Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.

The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.