Love is a beautiful image Imagined or seen within the heart, The friend of virtue and gentility.
Perfection is no small thing, but it is made up of small things.
From such a gentle thing, from such a fountain of all delight, my every pain is born.
Dear to me is sleep: still more, being made of stone, While pain and guilt still linger here below, Blindness and numbness--these please me alone; Then do not wake me, keep your voices low.
I was never the kind of painter or sculptor who kept a shop.
The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.