When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.

The prayer of Ajax was for light.

Like black hulks the shadows of the great trees ride at anchor on the billowy sea of grass.

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

Music is the language spoken by angels.

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

As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.