But over all things brooding sleptThe quiet sense of something lost.
Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have loved at all.
My strength is as the strength of ten,Because my heart is pure.
I am a part of all that I have met.
In after-dinner talk,Across the walnuts and the wine.
In a wink the false love turns to hate.
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
A wise man loses nothing, if he but save himself.
Beaten paths are for beaten men.
No man can lose what he never had.
Losers must have leave to speak.
What's saved affordsNo indication of what's lost.
That puts it not unto the touchTo win or lose it all.
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
Login ...
