Beauty hath no true glass, except it be in the sweet privacy of loving eyes.

They are slaves who fear to speak, for the fallen and the weak.

He gives only the worthless gold who gives from a sense of duty.

Every person born into this world their work is born with them.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold.

The time is ripe, and rotten-ripe, for change; Then let it come: I have no dread of what Is called for by the instinct of mankind. Nor think I that God's world would fall apart Because we tear a parchment more or less. Truth is eternal, but her effluence, With endless change, is fitted to the hour; Her mirror is turned forward, to reflect The promise of the future, not the past. I do not fear to follow out the truth.

God'll send the bill to you.