Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us.

A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.

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.

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

To genius life never grows commonplace.

While tenderness of feeling and susceptibility to generous emotions are accidents of temperament, goodness is an achievement of the will and a quality of the life.

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.