My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!

What should I be but just what I am?

To a Young Poet Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird. Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you, Can die as others do.

I love humanity but I hate people.

Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!

Death devours all lovely things.

My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!