Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.
Words alone are certain good.
A thought Of that late death took all my heart for speech.
I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
What can I but enumerate old themes?
What were all the world's alarms To mighty Paris when he found Sleep upon a golden bed That first dawn in Helen's arms?