My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.

The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

The true poet is a friendly man. He takes to his arms even cold and inanimate things, and rejoices in his heart.

Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.

In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods are everywhere