Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.

Look, then, into thine heart, and write!

Know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong.

Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.

I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions

When you ask one friend to dine, Give him your best wine! When you ask two, The second best will do!