Again, now, now, again Plashes the rain in heavy gouts, The crinkled lightning Seems ever brightening... And loud and long Again the thunder shouts His battle-song, - One quivering flash, One wildering crash, Followed by silence dead and dull, As if the cloud, let go, Leapt bodily below To whelm the earth in one mad overthrow, And then a total lull.

Truth only needs to be for once spoken out; and there's such music in her, such strange rhythm, as makes men's memories her joyous slaves.

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us.

Truth, after all, wears a different face to everybody, and it would be too tedious to wait till all were agreed.

The riches of scholarship, the benignities of literature, defy fortune and outlive calamity. They are beyond the reach of thief or moth or rust. As they cannot be inherited, so they cannot, be alienated.

There is only one thing better than tradition and that is the original and eternal life out of which all tradition takes its rise.

The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down, and still fluttered down the snow.