“Living Life Tomorrow’s fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again.”

I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return’d to me, And answer’d: ‘I Myself am Heav’n and Hell.

Into this universe, and why not knowing Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as wind along the wate, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.

Men talk of heaven, – there is no heaven but here; Men talk of hell, – there is no hell but here; Men of hereafters talk and future lives, – O love, there is no other life – but here.

You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.

My friend, let’s not think of tomorrow, but let’s enjoy this fleeting moment of life.

The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.

Hearts are like tapers, which at beauteous eyes Kindle a flame of love that never dies; And beauty is a flame, where hearts, like moths, Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

I came like Water, and like Wind I go.

I came like Water, and like Wind I go.

I came like Water, and like Wind I go.

Give me a flagon of red wine, a book of verses, a loaf of bread, and a little idleness. If with such store I might sit by thy dear side in some lonely place, I should deem myself happier than a king in his kingdom.

It is an awful thing to get a glimpse, as one sometimes does, when the time is past, of some little, little wheel which works the whole mighty machinery of fate, and see how our destinies turn on a minute’s delay or advance.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.

What do I know of man’s destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.

A common soldier will make an empire, but he will eventually meet his fate and be condemned to the Great Rock.

It is to be remarked that a good many people are born curiously unfitted for the fate waiting them on this earth.

The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.

Notions of chance and fate are the preoccupations of men engaged in rash undertakings.

They that are fated to be fools, have one consolation, that they are fated also to be ignorant of it.