Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far, The voice divine of human loyalty.
But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.
There is no private life which has not been determined by a wider public life.
It is very difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too tired.
No soul is desolate as long as there is a human being for whom it can feel trust and reverence.
What is opportunity to the man who cant use it?