“The moon has set, and the Pleiades; it is midnight, and time passes, and I sleep alone.”

For some the fairest thing on the dark earth is Thermopylae, And the Spartan phalanx lowering lances to die.

All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long.

Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.

If you are squeamish Don’t prod the beach rubble.

I do not know what to do, my mind’s in two.

I will let my body flow like water over the gentle cushions.

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

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.

I think I’m that guy. I’m still blessed with the opportunity to make music and pass out a message like, ‘Life is good,’ to the world.

There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London.

Don’t pass it by – the immediate, the real, the ours, the yours, the novelist’s that it waits for.

Well, we think that time “passes,” flows past us, but what if it is we who move forward, from past to future, always discovering the new? It would be a little like reading a book, you see.

But I have reasoned deeply, and, speaking as a philosopher, since the soul is not found without body and yet is not body, it may be in one body or in another, and pass from body to body.

There is nothing to compare with the courage of ordinary people whose names are unknown and whose sacrifices pass unnoticed.