Till I loved I never lived.

We turn not older with years but newer every day.

To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.

a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.

How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.

The brain is wider than the sky, For, put them side by side, The one the other will include With ease, and you beside.

I don't profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense.