The debts we owe ourselves are the hardest to pay.
She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won!
Earth knows no desolation. She smells regeneration in the moist breath of decay.
But O the truth, the truth. The many eyes That look on it The diverse things they see.
Possession without obligation to the object possessed approaches felicity.
We never know what's in us till we stand by ourselves.