In your patience ye are strong.

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.

Let us be content to work To do the things we can, and not presume To fret because it's little.

A man may love a woman perfectly, and yet by no means ignorantly maintain a thousand women have not larger eyes. Enough that she alone has looked at him with eyes that, large or small, have won his soul.

My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.

We have hearts within, Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts.

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