Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.
I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
Oh good gray head which all men knew!
Either sex alone is half itself.
Silence, beautiful voice.