Index of Last Lines

Sometimes I wonder if it would be good to publish an index of last lines. You know, so that people who are finishing up or ending things--or who are looking for Dear John material or pink slip copy or just grand symphonic flourishes--might be better able to find something suitably inspiring. Think!

* * *

Then with a slow incline of his broad breast,
Like to a diver in the pearly seas,
Forward he stoop’d over the airy shore,
And plung’d all noiseless into the deep night.

Hyperion, I.354-357

* * *

          The Fiend lookt up and knew
His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.

Paradise Lost, IV.1013-1015.

* * *

uitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras.

Aeneid, XII.952