“With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.”

And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.

Who made the world I cannot tell; ‘Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.

And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.

His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.

Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under.

But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame’s to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I’ll be there.

I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.

And how am I to face the odds Of man’s bedevilment and God’s? I, a stranger and afraid In a world I never made.

Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.

The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.

Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.

When the journey’s over/There’ll be time enough to sleep.

He would not stay for me, and who can wonder? He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder, And went with half my life about my ways.

I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.

All knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use.

A friend told me that teenage girls are always looking for someone to pin their dreams on. That doesn’t make it any less weird though.

An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there’s another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.

We are so fond on one another because our ailments are the same.

The highest friendship must always lead us to the highest pleasure.

I slipped the book into my pocket. I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship.

Friendships are the family we make – not the one we inherit. I’ve always been someone to whom friendship, elective affinities, is as important as family.

Books like friends, should be few and well-chosen.

One enemy can do more hurt than ten friends can do good.