Because our lives are cowardly and sly, Because we do not dare to take or give, Because we scowl and pass each other by, We do not live; we do not dare to live.

A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.

You must be fit to give before you can be fit to receive.

Is it not possible that the ultimate end is gaiety and music and a dance of joy?

Men come of age at sixty, women at fifteen.

I would think Until I found Something I can never find; - Something Lying On the ground, In the bottom Of my mind.

I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare.