Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.
Love will conquer at the last.
And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?
The greater person is one of courtesy.
Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.