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.

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.

Love is a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide.

Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.

The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.

These stars of earth, these golden flowers.

Let us, then, be what we are; speak what we think; and in all things keep ourselves loyal to truth.