Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?
What's come to perfection perishes. Things learned on earth we shall practice in heaven; Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.
Since there my past life lies, why alter it?
Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!