April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T.S. Eliott
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The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two—is gone.
Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám of Naishápúr
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This was the end ... of our friend;
a man of whom we may say that
of all of whom we met at that time
he was the wisest and justest and best.
Plato, on the death of Socrates