The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams.

The growing drama has outgrown such toys Of simulated stature, face, and speech: It also peradventure may outgrow The simulation of the painted scene, Boards, actors, prompters, gaslight, and costume, And take for a worthier stage the soul itself, Its shifting fancies and celestial lights, With all its grand orchestral silences To keep the pauses of its rhythmic sounds.

This race is never grateful: from the first, One fills their cup at supper with pure wine, Which back they give at cross-time on a sponge, In bitter vinegar.

Light tomorrow with today!

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.

Books are men of higher stature, and the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear.