An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.

Our Euripides the human, With his droppings of warm tears, and his touchings of things common Till they rose to meet the spheres.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light.

And if God choose I shall but love thee better after death.

What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?