Home is the sacred refuge of our life.
…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
He has not learned the first lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear.
My love's a noble madness.
Reason is a crutch for age, but youth is strong enough to walk alone.