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.

What! alive, and so bold, O earth?

Poet's food is love and fame.

The Galilean is not a favorite of mine. So far from owing him any thanks for his favor, I cannot avoid confessing that I owe a secret grudge to his carpentership.

In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred; it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams.

His fine wit Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it.