Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the Spring!—the great annual miracle.... which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. If Spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change!... We are like children who are astonished and delighted only by the second-hand of the clock, not by the hour-hand.

He had mittens, Minjekahwun, Magic mittens made of deer-skin; When upon his hands he wore them, He could smite the rocks asunder, He could grind them into powder.

Think not because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.

Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest of all the arts.

Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.

He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.

Make not thyself the judge of any man.