Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.

I have read somewhere that in the Emperor's palace at Byzantium was a tree made of gold and silver, and artificial birds that sang.

I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.

I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to set a statesman right.

One should say before sleeping: I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knee and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.

I'm looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

All the wild-witches, those most notable ladies For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.