Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscle trained; Know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes, or when she'll say to thee, "I find thee worthy; do this deed for me?"

Fate loves the fearless.

The story of any one man's real experience finds its startling parallel in that of every one of us.

Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.

Life is the jailer, death the angel sent to draw the unwilling bolts and set us free.

AND what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.