A man is ever apt to contemplate himself out of all proportion to his surroundings.

For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather.

O passing angel, speed me with a song, a melody of heaven to reach my heart and rouse me to the race and make me strong.

A man is ever apt to contemplate himself out of all proportion to his surroundings.

She cried, "Laura," up the garden, "Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.

Fair as the moon and joyful as the light; Tot wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dreams.