Souls are dangerous things to carry straight through all the spilt saltpetre of this world.
Whoever lives true life, will love true love.
Books are men of higher stature.
And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”
I should not dare to call my soul my own.
She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.