The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me.

Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot be persuaded to say it.

It may be glorious to write Thoughts that shall glad the two or three High souls, like those far stars that come in sight Once in a century.

Better one bite at forty, of truths bitter rind, than the hot wine that gushed from the vintage of twenty.

Let us be of good cheer, however, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.

Suddenly all the sky is hid As with the shutting of a lid, One by one great drops are falling Doubtful and slow, Down the pane they are crookedly crawling, And the wind breathes low; Slowly the circles widen on the river, Widen and mingle, one and all; Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver, Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.

It is the rooted instinct in men to admire what is better and more beautiful than themselves.