The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.

There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.

I should not dare to call my soul my own.

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.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.