Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!

Most progress is most failure.

I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours forever.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

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

The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!

There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music