What distressed me most - more even than my own folly - was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness dwell so near?

Blessed be the true life that the pauses between its throbs are not death!

It is only by loving a thing that you can make it yours.

Love me, beloved; Hades and Death Shall vanish away like a frosty breath; These hands, that now are at home in thine, Shall clasp thee again, if thou art still mine; And thou shalt be mine, my spirit's bride, In the ceaseless flow of eternity's tide, If the truest love thy heart can know Meet the truest love that from mine can flow. Pray God, beloved, for thee and me, That our sourls may be wedded eternally.

We must do the thing we must Before the thing we may; We are unfit for any trust Till we can and do obey.

For the bliss of the animals lies in this, that, on their lower level, they shadow the bliss of those--few at any moment on the earth--who do not 'look before and after, and pine for what is not,' but live in the holy carelessness of the eternal now.

Beauty and sadness always go together.