“Ah Maud, you milk-white fawn, you are all unmeet for a wife.”

“Maud in the light of her youth and her grace,Singing of Death, and of Honor that cannot die,Till I well could weep for a time so sordid and mean,And myself so languid and base.”

“And ah for a man to arise in me,That the man I am may cease to be!”

“Matched with an aged wife, I mete and doleUnequal laws unto a savage race,That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.”

“It little profits that an idle king,By this still hearth, among these barren crags,Match'd with an agèd wife, I mete and doleUnequal laws unto a savage race,That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.”

“The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"And the lily whispers, "I wait.”

“if you don't concentrate on what you are doing then the thing that you are doing is not what you are thinking.”