All's love, yet all's law.

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.

If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.

'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.