Here was a type of the true elder race, And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.

Heaven is neither here nor there to me. Everywhere and nowhere. Just not in between, But I believe in Heaven.

In the parliament of the present every man represents a constituency of the past.

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne.

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

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.

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.