He who binds His soul to knowledge, steals the key of heaven.
The dust is old upon my "sandal-shoon," And still I am a pilgrim; I have roved From wild America to Bosphor's waters, And worshipp'd at innumerable shrines Of beauty; and the painter's art, to me, And sculpture, speak as with a living tongue, And of dead kingdoms, I recall the soul, Sitting amid their ruins.
Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
The soul of man createth its own destiny.
I have unlearned contempt; it is a sin that is engendered earliest in the soul, and doth beset it like a poison worm feeding on all its beauty.
A lamp is lit in woman's eye; that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
There is a gentle element, and man may breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, and drink its living waters, till his heart is pure; and this is human happiness.
The soul of man createth its own destiny of power; and as the trial is intenser here, his being hath a nobler strength in heaven.
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