Man's yesterday may never be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability. |
Monarchy is only the string that ties the robber's bundle. |
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory |
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken |
Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon. |
Nought may endure but Mutability. |
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind? |
Obedience indeed is only the pitiful and cowardly egotism of him who thinks that he can do something better than reason |
Obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanized automaton |
Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life... is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret. |
One word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it |
Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves. |
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. |
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts. |
Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted. |