Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.

Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.

Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.

My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.

Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.