“The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.”

From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.

Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge – it is as immortal as the heart of man.

Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Prompt to move but firm to wait – knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.

And I am happy when I sing.

As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.

But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light.

But He is risen, a later star of dawn.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

My heart leaps up when I behold

Let Nature be your teacher.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

Someday girl, I don’t know when, were gonna get to the place where we really want to go, and we’ll walk in the sun. But til then, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.

For anew Self to be born, hardship is necessary. Just as clay needs to go through intense heat to become strong, Love can only be perfected in pain.

If the earth is fit for laughter then surely heaven is filled with it. Heaven is the birthplace of laughter.

We were born crying. Therefore, we must try at any cost; to keep a smile on the face.

While the parts change, the whole always remains the same. For every thief who departs this world, a new one is born. And every decent person who passes away is replaced by a new one. In this way not only does nothing remain the same but also nothing ever really changes.

Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.

The first thing brought forth by the study of any religion, ancient or modern, is that it is based upon Fear, born of it, fed by it — and that it cultivates the source from which its nourishment is derived.