One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.
Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
Poetry, like love, is something we never truly say goodbye to.
Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.
Death: the grand perhaps.