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

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness; Round our restlessness, His rest.

I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental.

May the good God pardon all good men.

We all have known good critics, who have stamped out poet's hopes; Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state; Good patriots, who, for a theory, risked a cause; Good kings, who disemboweled for a tax; Good Popes, who brought all good to jeopardy; Good Christians, who sat still in easy-chairs; And damned the general world for standing up. Now, may the good God pardon all good men!