If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?

The pain others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

A lonely impulse of delight

While they danced they came over them the weariness with the world, the melancholy, the pity one for the other, which is the exultation of love.

Homer is my example and his unchristened heart.

We are fastened to a dying animal.