The luck will alter and the star will rise.

People who leave their own time out of their work cannot be surprised if their time fails to find them interesting.

In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.

So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright; And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king.

Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.

It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.