“Trust me not at all, or all in all.”

So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.

A still small voice spake unto me, ‘Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?

Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.

The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.

And our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.

Things seen are mightier than things heard.

O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Love will conquer at the last.

The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.

Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again.

Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.

In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.