Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.

But say That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, Bereaving sense, but endless misery From this day onward, which I feel begun Both in me, and without me, and so last To perpetuity; ay me, that fear Comes thund'ring back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head; both Death and I Am found eternal, and incorporate both, Nor I on my part single, in me all Paradise Lost Posterity stands cursed: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons; O were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none!

Solitude is sometimes the best society.

No institution which does not continually test its ideals, techniques and measure of accomplishment can claim real vitality.

Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.

Son of Heav'n and Earth, Attend: that thou art happy, owe to God; That thou continuest such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.

Just deeds are the best answer to injurious words.