What a thing friendship is - World without end.
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.
My sun sets to rise again.
Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
Faultless to a fault.
I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on.
He who did well in war just earns the right, To begin doing well in peace.
So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ's particular love's sake!
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
Who knows most, doubts most; entertaining hope means recognizing fear.
Paracelsus At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages’ way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out — not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.
But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.
All's love, yet all's law.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it ‘Italy.'
When is man strong until he feels alone?
There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness;....and, to know, rather consists in opening out a way where the imprisoned splendor may escape, then in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.
For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.
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