Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea Loves t'have his sails filled with a lusty wind, Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack, And his ship run on her side so low That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.

Let no man value at a little price A virtuous woman's counsel; her winged spirit Is feathered often times with heavenly words, And, like her beauty, ravishing and pure.

Poetry, unlike oratory, should not aim at clarity... but be dense with meaning, 'something to be chewed and digested'.

The incompetent quickly throws himself into another impressive enterprise in order to escape his responsibility from previous disaster.

Be free all worthy spirits, and stretch yourselves, for greatness and for height.

Love is Natures second sun.

They're only truly great who are truly good.