“God is in his Heaven, all’s right with the world.”

No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man’s worth something.

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe, all were for me, in the kiss of one girl.

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

Lofty designs must close in like effects.

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

All’s love, yet all’s law.

At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.

Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.

My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolute best of what God made.

A minute’s success pays the failure of years.

God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.

Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.

I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life’s set prize.