Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile
I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?
Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief
A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.