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

And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.

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

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach

And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.