I hold that a man had better be dead than alive when his work is done.

True worth is in being, not seeming- In doing, each day that goes by, Some little good, not in the dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness, And spite of the fancies of youth, There's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth.

Shut up the door: who loves me must not look / Upon the withered world, but haste to bring / His lighted candle, and his story-book, / And live with me the poetry of spring.

Yea, when mortality dissolves, Shall I not meet thine hour unawed? My house eternal in the heavens Is lighted by the smile of God!

Coldly and capriciously the slanting sunbeams fall.

I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me.

Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle, Yet with itself every soul standeth single.