The key to all strange things is in thy heart..../ My spirit has come home, that sailed the doubtful seas.

For we must be one thing or the other, an asset or a liability, the sinew in your wing to help you soar, or the chain to bind you to earth.

We were not made to eternally weep.

All day long and all night through, One thing only must I do: Quench my pride and cool my blood, Lest I perish in the flood.

I have a rendezvous with life.

We shall not always plant while others reap

Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!