The very plants turn with a joyful transport to the light.
It is not the mere station of life that stamps the value on us, but the manner in which we act our part.
Eternity gives nothing back of what one leaves out of the minutes.
Sentimental poetry differs from naive poetry in that it relates the real state at which the latter stops to ideas and applies ideas to that reality.
The lamp of genius burns quicker than the lamp of life.
We, we live! ours are the hours, and the living have their claims.