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.
Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
It is the greatest of crimes to depress true art and science.
Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb." So I piped with merry cheer; "Piper, pipe that song again." So I piped; he wept to hear.