И жить торопится и чувствовать спешит. Кн. Вяземский. - Alexander Pushkin

And yet from thought of death, my friends, I shrink;
I want to live - to suffer and to think,
To taste of care and grief and tribulation,
Of rapture and of sweet exhilaration;
Be drunk with harmony; touch fancy's strings
And freely weep o'er its imaginings...
And love's last flash, its smile of farewell tender
My sad decline may yet less mournful render.

Light-minded society mercilessly persecutes in reality what it allows in theory

How rapid was his look and bashful,
Tender and bold, while off and on
With an obedient tear it shone.