A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there: she must prove what she can do before she does it, -- prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, A woman's function plainly is... to talk. Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed!

Earth's crammed with Heaven.

There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.

Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me--wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove.

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