They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.

If all the world is a stage and life is just a play upon it, get me two seats in the stalls.

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

Good to forgive, Best to forget.

What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

Since there my past life lies, why alter it?