The plague of gold strikes far and near.

I should not dare to call my soul my own.

When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .

Much of the possibility of being cheerful comes from the faculty of throwing oneself beyond oneself.

My love for him was so exquisitely pure that if we all were capable of giving and receiving such a beautiful gift the world would be a far more brilliant place; I think we'd all be poets.

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.