You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.

Silence 'tis awe decrees.

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now.

God is the perfect poet.

What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.