Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, Lover of loneliness, and wandering, Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! Thee must I praise above all other glories That smile us on to tell delightful stories.

We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.

Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

I wish to believe in immortality-I wish to live with you forever.

O aching time! O moments big as years!

Are there not thousands in the world who love their fellows even to the death, who feel the giant agony of the world, and more, like slaves to poor humanity, labor for mortal good?