Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare.
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!
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?