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

Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.

Earth is crammed with heavens.

All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.