And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”

Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine; While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains.

My love for him was so exquisitely pure that if we all were capable of giving and receiving such a beautiful gift the world would be a far more brilliant place; I think we'd all be poets.

Where Christ brings His cross He brings His presence; and where He is none are desolate, and there is no room for despair.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

Earth's crammed with Heaven.

She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.