My temptation is quiet. Here at life's end Neither loose imagination Nor the mill of the mind Consuming its rag and bone, Can make the truth known.

On limestone quarried near the spot By his command these words are cut: Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!

The light of lights looks always on the motive, not the deed, the shadow of shadows on the deed alone.

Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice?

Time can but make it easier to be wise / Though now it seems impossible, and so / All that you need is patience.

All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.

Love comes in at the eye.