Words, however, are things.
No life can be pure in its purpose, and strong in its strife, and all life not be purer and stronger thereby.
Rest is sweet after strife.
Truth makes on the ocean of nature no one track of light; every eye, looking on, finds its own.
Who knows nothing base, Fears nothing known.
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.