Oh, Christ! It Is A Goodly Sight

Age Shakes Athena's Tower, But Spares Gray Marathon.

Many Are Poets, But Without The Name;for What Is Poesy But To Createfrom Overfeeling Good Or Ill; And Aimat An External Life Beyond Our Fate,and Be The New Prometheus Of New Men,bestowing Fire From Heaven, And Then, Too Late,finding The Pleasure Given Repaid With Pain

Be Warm, Be Pure, Be Amorous, But Be Chaste.

I Loved My Country, And I Hated Him.

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.