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• As still to the star of its worship, though clouded
  The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee....
• In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Stanzas to Augusta...
• For thee the wonder working earth puts forth sweet flowers.
• Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
  War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble...
• Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
  Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change....
• For thee the wonder-working earth puts forth sweet flowers. -- Titus Lucretius Caru
• If I die, bury me upside down so that the world can kiss my ass!
• Now the world has gone to bed, Darkness won't engulf my head, I can see by infrared, How I hate the night.
  Now I lay me down to sleep, Try to count electric sheep, Sweet dream wishes you can keep, How I hate the night....
• Slaves are generally expected to sing as well as to work .
  .. I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meanings of those rude, and apparently incoherent songs....