My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea

There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.

We have not wings we cannot soar; but, we have feet to scale and climb, by slow degrees, by more and more, the cloudy summits of our time.

The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.

White swan of cities slumbering in thy nest . . . White phantom city, whose untrodden streets Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting Shadows of the palaces and strips of sky.

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.