Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?
Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long; if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.
Oh! death will find me long before I tire of watching you.
The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.