May the good God pardon all good men.

Don't get me wrong-painting's all right. But now that we have photography, what's the point?

She lived, we'll say, A harmless life, she called a virtuous life, A quiet life, which was not life at all (But that she had not lived enough to know)

It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden.

Whoso loves, believes in the impossible

Light tomorrow with today!

XI I sang his name instead of song; Over and over I sang his name: Backward and forward I sang it along, With my sweetest notes, it was still the same! I sang it low, that the slave-girls near Might never guess, from what they could hear, That all the song was a name.