O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!

Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.

I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.