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.

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men.

It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden.

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

With what cracked pitchers go we to deep wells In this world!

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

The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.