Books are men of higher stature, and the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear.

We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.

An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light.

But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each? - I dropt it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirits so far off From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief, - Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

The plague of gold strikes far and near.