There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
I only know we loved in vain; I only feel-farewell! farewell!
Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so.