Blest is he whose heart is the home of the great dead and their great thoughts.
Where imperfection ceaseth, heaven begins.
O, there is naught on earth worth being known but God and our own souls!
It is fine to stand upon some lofty mountain thought, and feel the spirit stretch into a view.
Oh, could we lift the future's sable shroud.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.