All your strength is in union, all your danger is in discord.

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.

The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.

In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the instrument has lost its strings, or is out of tune, it does not follow that the musician has lost his skill.

What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?

All the means of action -- the shapeless masses -- the materials -- lie everywhere about us. What we need is the celestial fire to change the flint into the transparent crystal, bright and clear. That fire is genius.