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

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

We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.

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?

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.

Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.