“Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.”

“How shall polluted mortals dare To sing Thy glory or Thy grace Beneath Thy feet we lie afar And see but shadows of Thy face.”

“Flow gently, sweet Afton,amang thy green braes,Flow gently, I'll sing theea song in thy praise;My Mary's asleepby thy murmuring stream,Flow gently, sweet Afton,disturb not her dream.Thou stock dove whose echoresounds thro' the glen,Ye wild whistly blackbirdsin yon thorny den,Thou green crested lapwingthy screaming forbear,I charge you, disturb notmy slumbering fair.How lofty, sweet Afton,thy neighboring hills,Far mark'd with the coursesof clear winding rills;There daily I wanderas noon rises high,My flocks and my Mary'ssweet cot in my eye.How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands,the primroses blow;There oft, as mild eveningweeps over the lea,The sweet-scented birk shadesmy Mary and me.Thy crystal stream, Afton,how lovely it glides,And winds by the cot wheremy Mary resides;How wanton thy watersher snowy feet lave,As, gathering sweet flowerets,she stems thy clear wave.Flow gently, sweet Afton,amang thy green braes,Flow gently, sweet river,the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleepby thy murmuring stream,Flow gently, sweet Afton,disturb not her dreams.”

“Let thy fortune be what it will, 'tis thy mind alone that makes thee poor or rich, miserable or happy.”

“Do thou restrain the haughty spirit in thy breast, for better far is gentle courtesy.”

“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joyBe heaped like mine, and that thy skill be moreTo blazon it, then sweeten with thy breathThis neighbours air, and let rich music’s tongueUnfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.”