AND what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.

Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.

Love lives on, and hath a power to bless when they who loved are hidden in the grave.

Freedom is the only law which genius knows.

A weed is no more than a flower in disguise.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

Most religion-mongers have bated their paradises with a bit of toasted cheese. They have tempted the body with large promises of possessions in their transmortal El Dorado. Sancho Panza will not quit his chimney-corner, but under promise of imaginary islands to govern.