Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine; While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains.

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

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.

He who breathes deepest lives most.

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.

Two human loves make one divine.

Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!