My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.

There is no mistake so great as the mistake of not going on.

Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.

I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.

Every mortal loss is an immortal gain.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache: do be my enemy for friendship's sake.