Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.

I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where.

The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

All the means of action -- the shapeless masses -- the materials -- lie everywhere about us. What we need is the celestial fire to change the flint into the transparent crystal, bright and clear. That fire is genius.

Let us be merciful as well as just.

Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.