Everything changes, nothing is lost.
The end doesn't justify the means.
Love is no assignment for cowards.
Ere land and sea and the all-covering sky Were made, in the whole world the countenance Of nature was the same, all one, well named Chaos, a raw and undivided mass, Naught but a lifeless bulk, with warring seeds Of ill-joined elements compressed together.
When I was from Cupid's passions free, my Muse was mute and wrote no elegy.
Giving calls for genius.