I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.

When work becomes play, and play becomes your work, your life unfolds.

Only God and I knew what I meant when I wrote it, now only God knows

There is the fear that we shan't prove worthy in the eyes of someone who knows us at least as well as we know ourselves. That is the fear of God. And there is the fear of Man -fear that men won't understand us and we shall be cut of from them.

The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.

It's God - I recognised him from Blake's picture.

A voice said, Look me in the stars And tell me truly, men of earth, If all the soul-and-body scars Were not too much to pay for birth.