“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.”

There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.

Eros seizes and shakes my very soul like the wind on the mountain shaking ancient oaks.

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery.

The Moon and Pleiades have set, Midnight is nigh, The time is passing, passing, yet Alone I lie.

I would not think to touch the sky with two arms

In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.

What cannot be said will be wept.

Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us.

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar Trample the soft blossoms of fine grass.

When anger spreads through the breath, guard thy tongue from barking idly.

No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.

Whatever one loves most is beautiful.

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.

A sound banker, alas, is not one who foresees danger and avoids it, but one who, when he is ruined, is ruined in a conventional way along with his fellows, so that no one can really blame him.

If you owe your bank a hundred pounds, you have a problem. But if you owe a million, it has.

If there was a payment to the bank due, and we needed shoes, she’d get the shoes, and then deal with them guys at the bank. I don’t mean she wouldn’t pay the bank, but the children always came first.

Whether a bank lent one million, ten million, or a hundred millions, they would not permanently alter the market rate of interest; they would alter only the value of the money they issued.

Neither a state nor a bank ever have had unrestricted power of issuing paper money without abusing that power.

If you owe your bank manager a thousand pounds, you are at his mercy. If you owe him a million pounds, he is at your mercy.

It is better that a man should tyrannize over his bank balance than over his fellow-citizens.

Buy cheap and sell high is a rule of business, and when you control enough money and enough banks you can always manage that a stock you want shall be temporarily cheap.