I pray, what flowers are these? The pansy this, O, that's for lover's thoughts.

We inherit nothing truly, but what our actions make us worthy of.

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

Extremes, though contrary, have the like effects. Extreme heat kills, and so extreme cold: extreme love breeds satiety, and so extreme hatred; and too violent rigor tempts chastity, as does too much license.

Man is a torch borne in the wind; a dream But of a shadow, summed with all his substance.

They're only truly great who are truly good.

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