And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.

I, who thought to sink, was caught up into love, and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm.

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came.

My future will not copy my fair past, I wrote that once. And, thinking at my side my ministering life-angel justified the word by his appealing look upcast to the white throne of God.

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.

I worked with patience which means almost power.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.