One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.

Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.

Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.

Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness.

What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.

Not a man alive has so much luck that he can play with it.

I went out to the hazelwood because a fire was in my head.