Silence, beautiful voice.
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
We love but while we may; And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.
How fares it with the happy dead?
As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.
Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.
I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again.
Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.
The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
All things human change.
I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
Love is the only gold.
If I make dark my countenance, I shut my life from happier chance.
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
Life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter’d with the shocks of doom, To shape and use.
O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.
No man ever got very high by pulling other people down. The intelligent merchant does not knock his competitors. The sensible worker does not work those who work with him. Don’t knock your friends. Don’t knock your enemies. Don’t knock yourself.
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.