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

She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.

To say of shame - what is it? Of virtue - we can miss it; Of sin-we can kiss it, And it's no longer sin.

We are not sure of sorrow, And joy was never sure; Today will die tomorrow; Time stoops to no man's lure.

To have read the greatest works of any great poet, to have beheld or heard the greatest works of any great painter or musician, is a possession added to the best things of life.

The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.