“Most progress is most failure.”

Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ’s particular love’s sake!

When is man strong until he feels alone?

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

I judge people by what they might be, – not are, nor will be.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

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

The moment eternal – just that and no more – When ecstasy’s utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

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.