In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.

And gain is gain, however small.

Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!

Praise is deeper than the lips

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.