The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
A brave soul is a thing which all things serve.
In my garden I spend my days, in my library I spend my nights. My interests are divided between my geraniums and my books. With the flower I am in the present; with the book I am in the past.
Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
To-day is always different from yesterday.