Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Thoroughly to believe in one’s own self, so one’s self were thorough, were to do great things.
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
Man is man, and master of his fate.
The noonday quiet holds the hill.
Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers; Unfaith is aught is want of faith in all.
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.
Cricket, however, has more in it than mere efficiency. There is something called the spirit of cricket, which cannot be defined.
Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.
There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
The thrall in person may be free in soul.
That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs the deep.
Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Every man at time of Death, Would fain set forth some saying that may live After his death and better humankind; For death gives life’s last word a power to live, And, lie the stone-cut epitaph, remain After the vanished voice, and speak to men.
A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.