You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: Some falls are means the happier to arise
Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
So they loved as love in twain Had the essence but in one; Two distinct, divisions none.
Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!