Heaven's slow but sure redress of human ills.
Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.
Thought alone is eternal.
Unseen hands delay The coming of what oft seems close in ken, And, contrary, the moment, when we say "'Twill never come!" comes on us even then.
Art is Nature made by Man, To Man the interpreter of God.
Whenever I hear French spoken as I approve, I find myself quietly falling in love.