Some people always sigh in thanking God.
There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.
The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light.
With what cracked pitchers go we to deep wells In this world!
Who so loves believes the impossible.
Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing; Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.