All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.

This could but have happened once,- And we missed it, lost it forever.

O never star Was lost; here We all aspire to heaven and there is heaven Above us. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time; I press God's lamp Close to my breast; its splendor soon or late Will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.

You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

All's love, yet all's law.