Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.

God is the perfect poet.

I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.

Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.