“The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars.”

Love – bittersweet, irrepressible – loosens my limbs and I tremble.

Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.

With his venom irresistible and bittersweet that loosener of limbs, Love reptile-like strikes me down

He who is fair to look upon is good, and he who is good will soon be fair also.

Some say an army of horsemen, or infantry, A fleet of ships is the fairest thing On the face of the black earth, but I say It’s what one loves.

How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away.

Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.

Experience shows us Wealth unchaperoned by Virtue is never an innocuous neighbor.

Hesperus bringing together All that the morning star scattered.

The moon is setand the Pleiades; Middle ofthe night, time passes by,I lie alone.

Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!

Without warning as a whirlwind swoops on an oak Love shakes my heart.

From all the offspring of the earth and heaven love is the most precious.

I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.

Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.

You may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us.

The beauty of the morning and the radiance of noon are good, but it would be a very silly person who drew the curtains and turned on the light in order to shut out the tranquillity of the evening. Old age has its pleasures, which, though different, are not less than the pleasures of youth.

Illuminating and making glad again the dark clouds of life. It is the morning and the evening star, that in glad refulgence, there on the awed horizon, call Nature’s hearts to an uplifted rejoicing in God’s marvelous firmament!

Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.

There are three reasons for becoming a writer: the first is that you need the money; the second that you have something to say that you think the world should know; the third is that you can’t think what to do with the long winter evenings.

Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night’s repose.

He was a staffer at Punch but in the evening he wrote columns for the Evening Standard and The Times.

The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming.

Sitting in the morning sun, I’ll be sitting when the evening comes.