A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.

Everything we look upon is blest.

Let the minor genius go his light way and enjoy his life - the great nature cannot so live, he is never really in holiday mood, even though he often plucks flowers by the wayside and ties them into knots and garlands like little children and lays out on a sunny morning.

It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our enemy that we like, and something in our sweetheart that we dislike.

I kiss you and kiss you, With arms around my own, Ah, how shall I miss you, When, dear, you have grown.

It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.

Odor of blood when Christ was slain Made all Platonic tolerance vain And vain all Doric discipline.