Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

Who so loves believes the impossible.

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.

I should not dare to call my soul my own.

Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.