Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
England! my country, great and free! Heart of the world, I leap to thee!
Grief hallows hearts, even while it ages heads.
Naught but God Can satisfy the soul.
Error is worse than ignorance.
Oh, could we lift the future’s sable shroud.
Obey thy genius, for a minister it is unto the throne of fate. Draw to thy soul, and centralize the rays which are around of the Divinity.
If all were rich, gold would be penniless.
I cannot be content with less than heaven.
Where imperfection ceaseth, heaven begins.
The worst way to improve the world is to condemn it.
And these are joys, like beauty, but skin deep.
Fulfill thy fate! Be-do-bear-and thank God.
Dewdrops, Nature’s tears, which she Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die. The sun insists on gladness; but at night, When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.
Any heart turned Godward feels more joyIn one short hour of prayer, than e’er was raisedBy all the feasts of earth since its foundation.
How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!
He is a fool who is not for love and beauty. I speak unto the young, for I am of them and always shall be.
Evil and good are God’s right hand and left.
Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.
Hell is more bearable than nothingness.
O, there is naught on earth worth being known but God and our own souls!