Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.

We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.

My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?

When he tells us about his Father, we distrust him. When he shows us his Home, we turn away, but when he confides to us that he is acquainted with grief, we listen, for that also is an acquaintance of our own.

MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me!

The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?

Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum; Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!