I worshipped dead men for their strength, Forgetting I was strong.

Still, no gardener would be a gardener if he did not live in hope.

Is it better to be extremely ambitious, or rather modest? Probably the latter is safer; but I hate safety, and would rather fail gloriously than dingily succeed.

I loved you when love was Spring, and May, Loved you when summer deepened into June, and now when autumn yellows all the leaves.

I cannot bear that you / Should think me faithful, when I am untrue.

It isn't that I don't like sweet disorder, but it has to be judiciously arranged.

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful.