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

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.

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

Who so loves believes the impossible.

Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words.

For 'Tis not in mere death that men die most.