Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.

What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.

truth outlives pain, as the soul does life.