“I now think, Love is rather deaf, than blind, For else it could not be, That she, Whom I adore so much, should so slight me, And cast my love behind.”

It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest; Would thou could’st make the time to do so too; I’ll wind thee up no more.

To the old, long life and treasure; To the young, all health and pleasure.

I glory, more in the cunning purchase of my wealth than in the glad possession.

Confound these ancestors… They’ve stolen our best ideas!

The soul of man is infinite in what it covets.

To struggle when hope is banished! To live when life’s salt is gone! To dwell in a dream that’s vanished- To endure, and go calmly on!

My thoughts and I were of another world.

Nor for my peace will I go far, As wanderers do, that still do roam, But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home.

The way to rise is to obey and please.

A new disease? I know not, new or old, but it may well be called poor mortals plague for, like a pestilence, it doth infect the houses of the brain till not a thought, or motion, in the mind, be free from the black poison of suspect.

Affliction teacheth a wicked person sometime to pray; prosperity never.

Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star.

The world knows only two, that’s Rome and I.

Cares that have entered once in the breast, will have whole possession of the rest.

Fortune, that favors fools.

It is a note Of upstart greatness to observe and watch For these poor trifles, which the noble mind Neglects and scorns.

I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight, but of course I believe in two people having chemistry right away.

Poetry is always slightly mysterious, and you wonder what is your relationship to it.

I would do something and let it sit for three months… just brood about and decide I needed to slightly change something here or there. Or one character wasn’t quite right. But I think everybody goes through this.

The exploding star of A.D. 1054, the Crab Nebula, was sighted and documented by the Chinese, but nowhere mentioned in the West, where the Aristotelian notion of the immortality of stars still held sway.

I actually find in America, there’s a slight snobbery about actors who go back and forth between big heavy dramas and popcorn fare. That always intrigues me, because that doesn’t exist in the same way in Britain. And I imagine it would be worse.

Past dreams of bliss our lives contain, And slight the chords that still retain A heart estranged to joys again,

It turned out that time doesn’t heal the wound , but in its so merciful way , blunts the edges ever so slightly

Compared to the American public at large, probably a slightly higher percentage of journalists, because of thier enhanced power of discernment, realize they know a gay person or two, and are, therefore, less frightened of them.