To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart" once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
A man in armor is his armor's slave.
A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
Earth is crammed with heavens.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!