As one lamp lights another, nor grows less,So nobleness enkindleth nobleness.

And blessed are the horny hands of toil.

Great truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of eternity.

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.

A poet must need be before his own age, to be even with posterity

There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.

The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers.