I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity Nor had I time to love: but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me.

Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.

These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.

It is true that the unknown is the largest need of the intellect, though for it, no one thinks to thank God.

Forever is made up of nows.

Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.

in this short life that only lasts ah hour how much-how little-is within our power.