Beloved, let us live so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our work.

For frequent tears have run; The colours from my life.

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

Of writing many books there is no end.

World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

True knowledge comes only through suffering.

Yes, I answered you last night; No, this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day.