They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep.

Heaven's slow but sure redress of human ills.

Be it jewel or toy, not the prize gives the joy, but the striving to win the prize.

The world is a nettle; disturb it, it stings. Grasp it firmly, it stings not.

It is, however, not to the museum, or the lecture-room, or the drawing- school, but to the library, that we must go for the completion of our humanity. It is books that bear from age to age the intellectual wealth of the world.

Thought alone is eternal.

The world is filled with folly and sin, And Love must cling, where it can, I say: For Beauty is easy enough to win; But one isn't loved every day.