What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.

He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.

Your belief systems limit your reality to a sub-set of the solution space that does not contain the answer.

A man who will not leave his room because he does not know how, or is afraid to open the door, is trapped just the same whether or not the door is locked.

the soul of conversation is sympathy

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.