There is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep.

On the mountains of memory by the world's wellsprings, in all man's eyes, where the light of life of him is on all past things, death only dies.

Change lays not her hand upon truth.

Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran .

Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day that we die.

When fate has allowed to any man more than one great gift, accident or necessity seems usually to contrive that one shall encumber and impede the other.

Ask nothing more of me sweet; All I can give you I give; Heart of my heart were it more, More would be laid at your feet.