“If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?”

A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.

Silence, beautiful voice.

Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.

Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.

Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

The words ‘far, far away’ had always a strange charm.

I sometimes find it half a sin, to put to words the grief I feel, For words like nature, half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.

Faith is believing what we cannot prove.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.

Trust me not at all, or all in all.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

Theres no shame in needing softness if your heart speaks in flowers.

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

But humanity never gets beyond the caterpillar stage -it rots in the chrysalis, it never will have wings.It is anti-creation, like monkeys and baboons.

I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.

And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.

I have decorated your absence with every flower you hate. I end up hating em all.

Hearts watered with love grow into flowers.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.