Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.

To do good things in the world, first you must know who you are and what gives meaning to your life.

He who did well in war just earns the right, To begin doing well in peace.

Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.