Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!

That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were.

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.

I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds All the world's loves in its unworldliness.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.

Success in marriage is more than finding the right person: it is being the right person.

You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe, all were for me, in the kiss of one girl.

Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character.

There is nothing so unpardonable as to consent to a senseless, aimless, purposeless life.

In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.

How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!

If all the world is a stage and life is just a play upon it, get me two seats in the stalls.

For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.

Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!

T'was a thief said the last kind word to Christ. Christ took the kindness and forgave the theft.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.

The heavens and earth stay as they were; my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.

Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.

Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.

It's wiser being good than bad; It's safer being meek than fierce: It's fitter being sane than mad.

Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her

To do good things in the world, first you must know who you are and what gives meaning to your life.

Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.

When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ's particular love's sake!

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware.

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.

I, painting from myself and to myself, Know what I do, am unmoved by men's blame Or their praise either.

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms?

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.

If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.

"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart" once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!

Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.

The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!

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