Imagination, that dost so abstract us That we are not aware, not even when A thousand trumpets sound about our ears!

The well heeded well heard.

The customs and fashions of men change like leaves on the bough, some of which go and others come.

The whole universe is but the footprint of the Divine goodness.

Here my powers rest from their high fantasy, but already I could feel my being turned- instinct and intellect balanced equally. as in a wheel whose motion nothing jars- by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.

All your renown is like the summer flower that blooms and dies; because the sunny glow which brings it forth, soon slays with parching power.

Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving, seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly, that, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me.