All who joy would win Must share it — Happiness was born a twin. - Lord Byron

So, we’ll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. II For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. III

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers

If I should meet thee
After long years
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.