Love gives itself; it is not bought.

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest.

O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!

The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.

A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are on the sea of life.

Whatever poet, orator, or sage may say of it, old age is still old age.

The soul never grows old.