Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.

I work with patience, which is almost power.

True knowledge comes only through suffering.

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

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.

You're something between a dream and a miracle.