Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.

Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees.

Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.

What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.