Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.

I hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.

It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.

It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.

A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.

The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

The course of my long life hath reached at last in fragile bark over a tempestuous sea the common harbor, where must rendered be account for all the actions of the past.