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

Death is an ill; ’tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.

The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.

Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.

Death must be an evil and the gods agree; for why else would they live for ever?

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.

This habit of reading, I make bold to tell you, is your pass to the greatest, the purest, and the most perfect pleasure that God has prepared for His creatures.

It is far easier for the proverbial camel to pass through the needle’s eye, hump and all, than for an erstwhile colonial administration to give sound and honest counsel of a political nature to its liberated territory.

we are reaching the point, if we have not passed it already, where the largest public housing program in America will be our penitentiary system.

A calendar, you have to calculate how much time has passed between you and the facts, the emotions to be narrated.

Time, as he passes us, has a dove’s wing, Unsoil’d, and swift, and of a silken sound.

Yet nowherein a zoo can a stranger encounter the look of an animal. At the most, the animal’s gaze flickers and passes on. They look sideways. They look blindly beyond.

I couldn’t stand here, hanging on, when the very thing i held disappeared more with each passing day.

The history of the world shows that peoples and societies do not have to pass through a fixed series of stages in the course of development.