She lived, we'll say, A harmless life, she called a virtuous life, A quiet life, which was not life at all (But that she had not lived enough to know)

God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.

Get work, get work; Be sure 'tis better than what you work to get.

Don't get me wrong-painting's all right. But now that we have photography, what's the point?

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.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

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