Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

I learned to love despair.

He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!

I have not loved the World, nor the World me; I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee, Nor coined my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud In worship of an echo.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends.

There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?