Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!

Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!

It's wiser being good than bad; It's safer being meek than fierce: It's fitter being sane than mad.

One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.

Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!