Is it then so sad a thing to die?

If I can not bend Heaven, I shall move Hell.

Live on in your blessings, your destiny's been won. But ours calls us on from one ordeal to the next.

Trust one who has tried.

I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.

In youth alone, unhappy mortals live; But, ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive: Discolour'd sickness, anxious labour, come, And age, and death's inexorable doom.

Fortune sides with he who dares