Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.
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!
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
Learn to labour and to wait.
No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
A sermon is no sermon in which I cannot hear the heartbeat.