Much must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods.
I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where.
My own thoughts Are my companions.
Hope has as many lives as a cat or a king.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
None but yourself who are your greatest foe.
It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.
Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.
Welcome, my old friend, Welcome to a foreign fireside.
The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.
Men of genius are often dull and inert in society; as the blazing meteor, when it descends to earth, is only a stone.
Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught In schools, some graduate of the field or street, Who shall become a master of art, An admiral sailing the high seas of thought Fearless and first, and steering with his fleet For lands not yet laid down in any chart.
Many have genius, but, wanting art, are forever dumb. The two must go together to form the great poet, painter, or sculptor.
'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.
Many people do not allow their principles to take root, but pull them up every now and then, as children do the flowers they have planted, to see if they are growing.
There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it.
O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes! O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, Ye shall be loved again.
The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.
Torrent of light and river of air, Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen, Like gold and silver sands in some ravine Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!
Decide not rashly. The decision made Can never be recalled. The gods implore not, Plead not, solicit not; they only offer Choice and occasion, which once being passed Return no more. Dost thou accept the gift?
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
A handful of red sand from the hot clime Of Arab deserts brought, Within this glass becomes the spy of Time, The minister of Thought.
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
The sentence of the first murderer was pronounced by the Supreme Judge of the universe. Was it death? No, it was life. 'A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth'; and 'Whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.
Round about what is, lies a whole mysterious world of might be, a psychological romance of possibilities and things that do not happen.
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