All things come round to him who will but wait. |
All things must change to something new, to something strange. |
Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied. |
And so we plough along, as the fly said to the ox |
And the night shall be filled with music, and the cares, that infest the day, shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, and as silently steal away. |
And the song, from beginning to end, I found in the heart of a friend |
And yet not turn your back upon the world. |
Archly the maiden smiled, with eyes overrunning with laughter, / Said, in a tremulous voice, `Why don't you speak for yourself, John?' |
Art is long, and Time is fleeting |
Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave |
Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, her aspect and her attitude. |
As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me. |
As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical |
As unto the bow the cord is, / So unto the man is woman; / Though she bends him, she obeys him, / Though she draws him, yet she follows; / Useless each without the other! |
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. |