With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.

Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty of the stars.

I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.

My heart is a garden tired with autumn.