Love, that is day and night - love, that is sun and moon and stars, Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume, no other words but words of love, no other thought but love.
Every hour of every day is an unspeakably perfect miracle.
The past, the future, majesty, love - if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss... it is inevitable as life.
Joy, shipmate, joy! (Pleased to my soul at death I cry), Our life is closed, our life begins, The long, long anchorage we leave, The ship is clear at last, she leaps! She swiftly courses from the shore, Joy, shipmate, joy!