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

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

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.

O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!

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