Beauty is whatever gives joy.

You are loved. If so, what else matters?

I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.

Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry; let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.