Not all the pride of beauty; Those eyes, that tell us what the sun is made of; Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with life; Those hills of driven snow, which seen are felt: All these possessed are nought, but as they are The proof, the substance of an inward passion, And the rich plunder of a taken heart.

Live now; be damn'd hereafter.

Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.

Less base the fear of death than fear of life.

The man of wisdom is the man of years.

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.

And all may do what has by man been done.