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.

Souls are gregarious in a sense, but no soul touches another, as a general rule.

Much of the possibility of being cheerful comes from the faculty of throwing oneself beyond oneself.

There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.

I begin to think that none are so bold as the timid, when they are fairly roused.

Death forerunneth Love to win "Sweetest eyes were ever seen."

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.