It is the fortunate who should extol fortune.
Grave was the man in years, in looks, in word, his locks were grey, yet was his courage green.
None merits the name of Creator but God and the poet.
A friend giveth sympathy in trouble.
Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing.
He, full of bashfulness and truth, loved much, hoped little, and desired naught.