It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be, Like all the rest, a mockery.

Oh that simplicity and innocence its own unvalued work so seldom knows!

The great secret of morals is Love; or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own.

Whatever may be his true and final destination, there is a spirit within him at enmity with nothingness and dissolution. This is the character of all life and being.

Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.

I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me- who knows how? To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

If a person's religious ideas correspond not with your own, love him nevertheless