I hate the man who eats without knowing what he’s eating. I doubt his taste in more important things.

When twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love, I watch the star whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love.

I am in love with the green earth.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.

A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.

Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!

Presents, I often say, endear absents.