Time sped. And the poet through sorrow Became like his suffering kind. Again he toiled over his poems To lighten the grief of his mind.

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.

Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving Thy strong regard for me, Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving; Let thy faith speak for thee.

I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.

There is nothing we cannot live down, and rise above, and overcome.

Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek And sought the mourner's side again. "Once more, dear lady, I must speak: Your last remaining son was slain Just at the closing of the fight; Twas he who sent me here to-night." "God knows," the man said afterward, "The fight itself was not so hard."

Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill, That is the only evil that can kill.