Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing.

In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.

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.

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.

Love is a flame to set the will on fire

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

Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth