Ignorance is not innocence but sin.

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.

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

We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.

Though Rome's gross yoke Drops off, no more to be endured, Her teaching is not so obscured By errors and perversities, That no truth shines athwart the lies.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

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.