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

When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.

What a thing friendship is - World without end.

Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.

I hear you reproach, "But delay was best, For their end was a crime." Oh, a crime will do As well, I reply, to serve for a test As a virtue golden through and through, Sufficient to vindicate itself And prove its worth at a moment's view! . . . . . . Let a man contend to the uttermost For his life's set prize, be it what it will! The counter our lovers staked was lost As surely as if it were lawful coin; And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is-the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin, Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

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