Over our manhood bend the skies; Against our fallen and traitor lives The great winds utter prophecies; With our faint hearts the mountain strives, Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite And to our age’s drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea.

The path of nature is, indeed, a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein.

And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.

The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.

If the devil take a less hateful shape to us than to our fathers, he is as busy with us as with them.

To fail at all is to fail utterly.

True scholarship consists in knowing not what things exist, but what they mean; it is not memory but judgment.